Mudblood, Actually
by Heffalump Army
Summary: Beatrice is tempestuous to put it mildly... and he's an ass. But when they're forced to cooperate, she and Tom are horrified to find out how easily they're growing on one another.  AU so I can get away with their ooc before it's explained in the story.
1. Meetings with Mudbloods

**It's kind of a weird idea, I know, but I was wondering what would happen _if_ Tom Riddle fell in love. He's pretty heartless, so it'll be interesting trying to manipulate him into affection. Especially since he doesn't really fancy being vulernable. Oh well, we shall see, yes?**

**Obviously, Tom Riddle isn't mine. None of this is mine. The only characters _I _came up with are Beatrice, her 3 friends, and the very... misguided Mrs. Avery. Her heart's in the right place, but clearly her mind isn't.**

* * *

Tom Riddle was having an especially trying day. He'd been looking for information on horcruxes, and as far as he knew, the only one who knew very much about them was the infuriating green-eyed mudblood in front of him. She wasn't pretty, she was the product two of the biggest muggles he'd ever heard of, and yet there she was, full of pride, and not even slightly intimidated by him. She was, clearly, incredibly stupid, even by Gryfindor standards. It was a wonder she could even get through the year, much less be competing neck and neck with him for top in every one of their classes. 

"I think you'd find it in your best interests to tell me," he seethed, trying to sound calm. He didn't want to give her the pleasure of knowing he was mad.

"Oh? What're you going to do Riddle? Set your little Death Club on me?" She didn't even look up from her things as his face turned a darker shade of purple.

"I don't see why you _can't_ tell me." _Stay calm... Stay calm... _He was hoping she'd take the bait.

"I don't trust you," she said simply. _She isn't as stupid as she looks..._ "Now, if you don't mind, I have better things to do than explain myself to the biggest waste of hot air I've ever met."

"Strong words for someone who doesn't usually talk without her flock of mudbloods behind her." He paused. "But then again, you probably feel _safer_ without them?"

He could tell she wanted to slap him, but when she spoke, much to his further annoyance, she sounded calmer than _he_ did. "Considerate to the end, aren't you Tom? And they said you weren't charming. Really though, you're a good substitute for my _flock of mudbloods_," she assured him. "I don't think I could find a better example of one if I tried." He glared at her, but she'd already slung her bag over her shoulder and was heading out the door.

* * *

"Beatrice?" Tom approached her after Herbology, smiling innocently. She was overwhelmed by the desire to cringe as he said her name, but instead surpressed it with every bit of will power she had. 

"Tom," she mumbled, packing her things, "I am not going to tell you about them. They're a terrible form of dark magic-" she stopped, snapping her eyes shut. She clutched her head, and as she did so, _he_ went flying backward. The teacher came running into the room, looking rather flustered.

"What's going on?" she snapped. She was ignored.

"You were trying to read my mind!" Beatrice slapped him. "I'm not _stupid, _Riddle. I'm not one of your little cronies. Just because you can read and write doesn't mean your special by anyone's standards other than a fellow Slytherin's! And that magical overweight bean, Slughorn!"

"Miss Emarski, we do not _slap_-" Their teacher tried once more.

"Actually, Mudblood, I didn't _try _to read your mind. I _did_. And you know what I saw?" She punched him this time and closed her eyes once more.

"Mr. Riddle- MISS EMARKSI!"

"I didn't _slap_ him- Oh look, _you're_ thinking about-" she stopped and slapped him again. "Okay, well if you're going to count _that_ time," she mumbled to her teacher before rounding on him. "Ugh! You're a pig, Riddle!" He smirked at her, and suddenly it fully dawned on them that their batty old teacher was in the room.

"Detention, both of you! 8:30, my office." she huffed. "And 20 points from both Slytherin and Gryfindor- _yes_ Miss Emarski, don't pretend it's a big shock to you. You're lucky you haven't gotten worse, you are! Go on, get out."

"But Professor," Beatrice began, "I've got Quidditch practice tonight. Can I serve it-"

"Miss Emarski, I am well aware of your schedules, and you do _not_ have Quidditch practice today. So if you are merely hoping to serve it at a different time than Mr. Riddle, I suggest you give up, as I'm going to make sure you both serve it at the same time."

"But Professor, I-"

"Perhaps," she said cooly, "Mr.Riddle and yourself will remember this before you decide to fight in my classroom again."

"I wouldn't count on it," Beatrice muttered.

"Pardon, Miss Emarski?"

"Nothing _Professor_," she hissed. For several minutes, until they were heading into the Great Hall, Beatrice was silent. When she finally spoke, she turned to Tom and snapped, "Look what you've done! You landed us _detention_. Do you know how far behind in homework I am already?"

"Do you think I fancy spending _my_ nights with _you_?" He snapped.

"After your little daydream, I'm not sure!"

"I knew you were trying to use Legit-"

"You did _not_!"

"Maybe in _your_ fantasies, but in the real world, actually, _yes_, I did." She glared at him and stormed over to where her friends sat at the table. He rolled his eyes as walked over to his own, though he still listened carefully to what they said.

"What were you doing with Tom_ Riddle_?" Alicia Smithies was asking.

"The git landed us dentention."

"Oh, because _you_ had _nothing_ to do with it?" her other friend, Lucy, asked somewhat sarcastically. Alicia laughed.

"Well, he _provoked_ it."

"You get provoked when he breathes too loud," Andrea chimed in.

"_Thank you_, Andrea."

"So what happened?" Lucy asked eagerly.

"I don't really feel like talking about it. It's just..." she paused. "He's just mad because _I_ know something _he_ doesn't. And he wants to find out so he can fancy himself special again. He doesn't really enjoy the fact that someone who isn't pureblood knows more than he does." Tom could tell, without bothering to read her mind that she knew she was lying. _Why_ she was lying was beyond him, however. Clearly she knew he'd use dark magic if given the chance. She didn't trust him, nor would she put anything past him, no matter how ridiculous. It just didn't make any sense. Maybe she was stupid enough to think conceite would sound worse than intending to use it? But he didn't feel the need to push his luck, and continued on his way to the Slytherin table.

_Girls!... or, rather, whatever Beatrice is._

* * *

When Beatrice arrived, Tom was already sitting down in front of a rather large desk. He shifted uncomfortably as she entered the room, nodding his head as subtly as he could to someone sitting across from him. Immediately, Beatrice wished for nothing more than to flee. But the door clicked behind her as soon as she'd stepped in, and with a look of horror, Beatrice sat down in the seat next to him. 

"Trina Avery," a rather plump woman smiled, holding out a hand, which the uncomfortable young brunette took accordingly. "Now, do you two know why I'm here?" She asked kindly, as soon as Beatrice had finally stopped fidgeting in her seat. Beatrice nodded and Trina asked, "And why is that, Sweetie?"

"Well, you're here to be our shrink," Beatrice mumbled. "No offense."

"Well," she murmured, "I suppose that's _one_ way of putting it- Well _anyway _dears, your teacher told me that the two of you fight- _often. _I'm here to fix that!" She sounded so cheerful, Beatrice didn't have the heart to tell her that finding cheer-spreading dementors was more likely. Of course, she didn't have to regardless- Tom, the heartless prat, was already doing it for her.

"Listen, _Ms. Avery_," he began cooly, "I don't think that's-"

"Mr. Riddle! I sense some conflicting feelings. But really, this will be strictly confidential."

"I don't think so."

"Tom, I assure you-"

"I think if hell froze over, it'd be pretty well broadcasted, don't you?" He glanced at Beatrice, who was attempting to screw up her face into a scowl.

"_Grow up, Riddle_," She snapped. "As lovely as I'm sure you believe your voice to be, can't you just listen to someone _else_ talk for more than five seconds?"

"Just because you want to get all close to me, Mudblood-"

"Excuse me, but who was stalking who after class, exactly?"

"Who dragged it on?"

"Children-"

"Every moment with you _drags on_," Beatrice said flatly. "Are you really so _special_ that you can't see what's right in front of your eyes? We're here because of _you_!"

"If you would just stop pretending you were my equal-"

"Pretend to be your equal? I wouldn't dream of doing myself the injustice!" Beatrice let out what sounded very much like a cackle. Then she stood up, slamming her hands on the desk. "Nor anyone else for that matter, even if they aren't sharp enough to see what a vindictive, immature little asshole you are!"

"Oh catch up!"

"I have caught up! I'm well ahead of your lot, actually. I'm not an idiot, Riddle! I haven't been hanging on your every word like the rest of them! I hate you-"

"Oh, I'm heartbroken," he retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"You'll get over it event-"

"CHILDREN!" Mrs. Avery bellowed. "You _will_ do as I say and this matter _will_ be resolved!" Her responce was silence, just as she'd hoped. Beatrice had even, though somewhat reluctantly, settled herself back into her chair. Truthfully, they were too stunned, at the moment, to come up with anything particularly snide, but Mrs. Avery preferred to think she'd imtimidated them just enough to listen. "_Now,_" she began with renewed confidence, "If you both want to act like children, you'll be treated like them. Children need help with _everything_ they do. Children get put on timeout. If you two don't stop it, that's exactly what you're going to get! I will attach to two of you at the hip if that's what it's going to take to keep you from going at it after just a few seconds of one another's company! If you want freedom, you have to act like adults. You can't provoke each other anymore- nor can you react when provoked! You two-" she let out a small laugh. "Will be a very interesting assignment for me- but that can go either way for you. Good or bad. So behave. Alright?" Beatrice nodded, quietly. Tom merely stared coldly.

"Why don't you just keep us away from each other? Problem solved," he replied boredly.

"Mrs. Avery?" Dumbledore knocked and opened the door just enough to stick his head in. "Could I have a word?"

"Of course!" She beamed. Apparently she hadn't heard Tom- or she was taking a leaf from Beatrice's book and ignoring the hell out of him (though lately, that particular method wasn't working as well as it used to). "Excuse me, you two." As soon as she stepped out of the room, Tom turned to Beatrice.

"Maybe _you're_ used to being kicked around by your parents, Mudblood, but _real wizards_-"

"Tell me Tom, before I tune you out regardless of your answer, is this information from experience or something you pulled from your ass?" Beatrice retorted. "Because if I recall correctly, being an orphan means-"

"I would rather be an orphan than be what _you_ are-"

"Oh, right. I'm sure your little pureblood buddies congratulate you on your dad being a muggle _all _the time, huh? Look, I don't care about any of this- I just don't want to end up punished even worse than necessary because _you_ can't shut up." She took a deep breath. "Listen. I know we're never going to get along, okay? But can we make this easier on ourselves and just go along with what she has to say?"

"I'm not going to cooperate with a woman who thinks I'm three years old!"

"Yes, because you've shown _so_ much maturity- Tom, as new to this concept as you are- and I'll go very slow for you- your butt is not the only one on the line, nor is it the only one that matters. So your personal choices are your own, but if it involves me? You have-"

"Is that all you can think about? My butt? Honestly, Mudblood-"

"_That's_ what you heard? LISTEN TO ME! You're not always right! You can't go through life listening to nothing but those voices echoing around your own otherwise empty, disproportioned head!" He stood up and pulled his wand out menacingly.

"I am not going to be told by a filthy little mudblood what I can and cannot do, nor will I be threatened by one!"

Beatrice remained sitting down, but was holding hers up now as well. "I haven't threatened you, _yet_," she growled, pointing her wand at his neck. He returned the gesture- which recieved responce in the form of a completely different type of gesture. Just then, Mrs. Avery burst in, clearly flustered. Beatrice immediately dropped her finger back down beside the others and tightened it into a fist- though she and Tom had yet to lower their wands.

"Mr. Riddle! Miss Emarski! It is obvious you two cannot overcome this tension-"

"_Tension?_" Tom asked incredulously. _Tension didn't even begin to cover it..._

"Yes, Mr. Riddle. The sexual tension is so thick-" Beatrice's wand went clattering to the floor, shortly followed by Tom's. Beatrice burst out laughing. Tom, on the other hand, proceeded to open and close his mouth.

"Really!" Mrs. Avery was situated behind her desk once more.

"Oh wait, you're serious?" Beatrice, who had been whiping tears of laughter out of her eyes, looked up, alarmed. "Oh. No no no! You misunderstand."

"Is there some other definition that we're not aware of?" Tom asked, horrified. Beatrice's expression slowly began to mirror his.

"Until you can admit your feelings, you two will never get anywhere!" Mrs. Avery snapped.

"And now, back in the _real_ world-"

"You can't admit to feelings that don't exhist! Have you thought of _that-_"

"-I mean, let's be serious now! If this idiot can figure out what a load of crap that is, I don't think it's an idea we should run with, do you?"

"-even the Mudblood thinks this is ridiculous, and she's said some pretty stupid things before."

"What is she _on_?" Beatrice mouthed to herself. Without realizing it, Tom nodded in agreement.

"Clearly, Beatrice is a very lovely young woman. And Tom, you seem to be a very charming young man. It's apparent that you two just need to spend time together-"

"Are you mental?"

"-and you _will_ bond, if it's the last thing you two do-"

"Funny, I thought shrinks weren't supposed to _encourage_ suicide," Beatrice replied. The comment had clearly escaped Mrs. Avery; she was still talking rather animatedly about her plans to unite the two of them. Tom, however, had heard, and let out a small chuckle. Their eyes met and then they scowled at one another. Crossing their arms, they looked down at their feet and pretended to listen to Mrs. Avery half-heartedly.

Beatrice was fiddling with the sleeve of her robes, twisting it as if it had been the one goading and insulting her. _He is such an ass! If he thinks he can just intimidate his way into everything, he_ certainly _has another thing coming to him! And this Avery woman? She thinks I need to spend _more_ time with him? If he's such a bloody nice boy, why doesn't _she_ spend just an hour or so with him?! That'll shut her the hell up..._

This was going to be a long year... _And I'm not going to help it along just because _she_ fancies the idea of it! If she thinks she's going to call the shots here, she's got a bit of a nasty shock coming to her, doesn't she? And this Avery woman? 'Beatrice is a lovely young woman'. Yeah? And so is Dumbledore. And Hagrid's small. What a nutter. __Has she even _heard _Beatrice talk this entire time? Just because she's got those bright green eyes, she thinks... Right. What a stupid mudblood. Yeah..._

The two of them glanced up to see Mrs. Avery was still talking. Their eyes met once more and their hatred for one another was unmistakeable.

This was going to be an long year... an impossibly long year.

* * *

**Don't hold it against me that I have taken so long to get a move on with my other story and am still starting this new one. I want the other one to be really, really good. (Not that I'm not putting effort into this one.) It's just that it's been bothering me for a while to write something like this, and it shouldn't take me long at all. It's just to kind of clear my mind of the fights that _wouldn't_ happen in my other one, and were taken out. But I liked them so I fit a few of them into here. That and this plot has been very simple and very clear in my head to begin with. There aren't any especially complicated twists- or not that I have planned. It doesn't require as much thought, you know? Not to say I'm not trying- whatever. I'm sure you don't find this little internal rant interesting at all.**

**So, please (PLEASE, PLEASE lol...) read and review! I _love_ reviews- good or bad. **

**Thanks for reading! Hope it's okay so far. I'm starting Chapter 2 right now.**


	2. Stuttering at Stupid

**I got back a little less than 12 hours ago from Hawaii, so I'm rather proud of myself for already getting this up. It would've been sooner, had the seat (on the plane...) next to me not been occupied by a kid who wanted to scream the entire 5 hours of the flight... So, I got no sleep, end of story.**

**I talk too much.**

**ANYWAY... the next chapter is out, and chapter 3 should be out in the next day or two (please don't hold me to that, though).**

**Oh. And also, thank you so much, Peasoup, for reviewing!!!!!!**

**Enjoy guys. :)**

* * *

Much to Mrs. Avery's delight, and _only _Mrs. Avery's, they were to meet with her every day for the first week, and every other day the week after. And, to the shock of absolutely no one, progress had yet to be made. 

"These things take time!" She would assure them cheerfully.

Little did she know, this was only _increasing_ their anger with one another. They certainly were not aspiring to become chummy with one another. It couldn't have been made any plainer and yet, every day for the past 7 days, Mrs. Avery tried to motivate them with the prospect of laughing and holding long conversations with one another.

But today was going alright, considering the amount of times they'd come at one another previously. Not a day had passed without Trina Avery having to call another teacher to help restrain the pair. And she knew the only reason today was any different was because after today, they had fewer lessons. It was somewhat disheartening, but she wasn't going to give up on them this easily.

"Are you spending time together?" She asked.

"If you mean more than absolutely necessary, then no," Tom snapped. He was _not_ in the mood for this today (just like every other day).

"Then," she sighed. "You two will sit next to each other at the Quidditch match today."

"Unfortunately, Mrs. Avery, I'm on the team," Beatrice sighed, attempting to sound disappointed. "..._Damn!_"

"Gryffindor is not playing today," Mrs. Avery smiled up at them. Beatrice's face dropped.

"Slytherin?" She turned to Tom, hopefully. He shook his head.

"Regretully," Mrs. Avery began, looking from Tom to Beatrice, "I won't be seeing either of you _play _today. I've talked to the headmaster and he's so kindly arranged it so that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff will be playing against one another. But I suppose that is most fortunate, seeing how enthusiastic Beatrice seems to be! Isn't that right, Mr.Riddle?"

"Regretfully," he growled.

"I think I'm going to be transferred to Ravenclaw," Beatrice tried.

"Well, I'm sure they had enough players _before_ that offer was made-"

"...No they didn't."

"Beatrice, you're not getting out of this."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder!" Beatrice mumbled.

"Yes, unfortunately, it's fond_er_, not _fond_, Miss Emerski," she replied.

"I think it's worth a try," Tom grumbled.

"I _don't_."

"I agree... with... him." Beatrice looked pained to say it.

"Stop it, you're going together and that's it!"

"But-"

"You've just gotten yourselves isolated from the rest of the crowd at the match."

"Oh look what you've done NOW!" Beatrice turned to him and slapped him on the arm.

"Me? _Me_? 'I'm getting transferred to Ravenclaw'! Very believable."

"Oh get over it, you didn't even _try_."

"You're a hypocrite, you know that Mudblood? _("You will call each other by first names!" Mrs. Avery yelled for what must've been the thirtieth time that day, but was ignored.)_ 'We're in this together, Riddle, so don't go being selfish' and then _you're_ the one whose got us both in trouble!"

"Well I..." Beatrice made a face. "That's different! I'm not openly defying-"

"The hell you aren't!"

Beatrice glared at him and got out of her chair. "This _is_ different! I was trying to get us _both_ out of it, not trying to piss her off!" She was headed for the door.

"Beatrice, incase you've forgotten, Tom has to escort you to the match."

"_Tom_," she spat, "Can escort whoever he ruddy wants but it's _not _going to be me!"

* * *

"Move your big head," Tom snapped. "I can't see at all." 

"Maybe it's because you have the lens caps on, Moron."

"What do you take me for? An idiot?"

She nodded.

"Well, I certainly do n-" Tom paused and looked at his binoculars. His face flushed and he jerked the lens caps off. "NOT have the lens caps on." He finished. There was nothing comical in the way he did it, but she snorted all the same.

"Oh smooth. Like I didn't see that." She could've said the sky was blue, really, and he would've still insisted it was all a pack of lies...

"Stop fighting!" Mrs. Avery snapped. She'd been hopeful when they hadn't argued the entire time they were headed for the pitch, and still while they were seated... until she realized Beatrice had used a silencing charm on him and was taunting him in a whisper. All of two minutes had passed since, and not one moment of it had been silent. "If you two don't have a decent conversation with one another by the end of this match, I'm extending your sessions." Beatrice and Tom glared at her before Beatrice spoke rather defiantly.

"So, about that ruddy shrink we've got..." He surpressed the urge to smile.

"Bloody horrible, she is."

"I think I may really _need_ a shrink after this."

"It's hard to find good help these days-"

"Something _else,_" Mrs. Avery hissed.

"Lovely weather, isn't it?"

"Yeah, nothing like a good hail storm."

"I think I'd prefer it over being locked up in that classroom all day-"

"Oh, I know. With that Avery woman?"

"Yeah." Mrs. Avery turned and glared at them before turning back to the match, which had barely started.

"So... about that shrink we've got-" She could've sworn she heard a laugh or two.

* * *

"I think," Mrs. Avery began, "That this experience was quite good for you two. I noticed there was a little less profanity than usual-" 

"Yeah, _Tom_, you need to mix that in a little more," Beatrice whispered under her breath.

"I heard laughing even-"

"Then you hear sounds only dogs can hear-"

"How do you figure? Was it because _you _heard them?" Beatrice whispered nastily.

"_But_," Trina Avery continued sternly, "I'm still not satisfied with spending time together merely 3 or 4 times a week. I think it would be good if you partnered in a class or two. You could really learn-!" She clapped her hands together. "That's it! You two will pick something you'd like to learn that the other does exceptionally well. And you will work together the days we don't meet... and I expect progress." She looked ready to burst from the brilliance of this idea.

The usual looks of horror danced across the faces of both students. "We're not going to get a day away from each other!"

"Now," Trina beamed as if Tom hadn't spoken, "Pick something... go on... PICK!" She snapped at last.

"I want to learn Occlumency." Beatrice looked taken aback. She'd expected some sort of smartass comment along the lines of 'Teach me how to be such a useless whore'. It was somewhat disappointing; she'd already started forming comebacks. But then it occurred to her. Tom Riddle... hiding his thoughts from the rest of the world. Did she really want to be held responsible for whatever stupidity it was he wanted to accomplish? How safe was it to help _him_ of all people, hide his thoughts?

"No," she said flatly. "I'll teach him how to do anything else."

"Beatrice," Tom said with mock sadness, "I'm actually looking forward to learning this-"

"See?" Mrs. Avery clapped her hands together once more. "He's looking forward to it!"

"I bet he is! Do you know what kind of damage he could do? At least _usually_ the teachers can prove we did stuff- and Tom gets away with enough as it is!"

"I'm starting to think you _enjoy_ it when Tom is in trouble."

"How long did you say you've been doing this, exactly?" Beatrice snapped. "Even HE knows that."

"Beatrice, I'm sorry, you're going to teach him Occlumens- I'm surprised someone as young as yourself would know it, really- quite amazing- anyway- What would _you_ like to learn?"

"I want to be as cold and stoic as him," she stated without the slightest hint of sarcasm.

"Beatrice, you need to take this seriously."

"_I _was being serious- she's just being rude," Tom said with feigned hurt. The plump woman ignored him.

"I am," she shrugged, turning to face Tom. "You want to learn how to keep people from reading your mind. _I _want to keep people from reading my expression. Really, what's so hard to understand about that? Or was it simply that you needed an explanation of what 'stoic' meant?"

"Fine," he said coolly.

"Shake on it," Mrs. Avery chimed in.

"Shake...?" Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Hands, Mr. Riddle."

"I know what you meant!"

"Well, then, go on. Shake on it." They both stared at her, then at the other's hands, but didn't move. "Come now, we don't have all day! A little contact won't hurt... unless you think it would be awkward," she added, forcing the grin off of her face. They both picked up on it.

"Excuse me, awkward? Awkward _how_?"

"Well, as I've said, the tension-" Beatrice didn't want to hear it and, without much thought, grabbed his hand hastily. He felt a burning sensation run through him as soon as she touched him. It was somewhat frightening, and he would've recoiled if he hadn't thought it would give Beatrice another reason to laugh at him. _Which has nothing to do with her, really... I don't care _what_ she thinks. She just can't be assuming she's got some sort of control over me is all... She's got to know that she can't laugh at me. _Nobody_ can laugh at me..._

They were holding their hands out, still not moving. She glanced at him. _Just shake my hand... _the thought drifted through Tom's head and when he looked up, she was staring pointedly at him. _...Yeah, hi. SHAKE MY HAND. I want this over with as much as you do. _He nodded and in mid-shake she was already pulling her hand away. The burning sensation was wearing off. _What was that?_ Tom chewed the inside of his lip. _Maybe her hand was just... warm?_ He felt disgusted suddenly. _Her hand? Her **hand**? ... the hell? It was _warm_? Nothing about her is warm... It just... this is ridiculous. That Avery is trying to pull something over us, and Beatrice- the mudblood... probably felt it too... It was just... Avery thinks she's on to something... Yeah..._

Mrs. Avery was grinning.

"I would ask why you're smiling, except that I don't really want to know," Beatrice grumbled, wiping her hand on her sleeve.

"Or you're afraid to know."

"Mrs. Avery," Beatrice sighed. "Gryffindors are prone to taking dares- even stupid ones. But I'm not that dense."

"Can we leave?"

"Yes, I suppose so- but remember! Lessons!" And with that, Trina Avery practically skipped out of the room with a renewed hope.

Beatrice groaned and reached down for her bag.

Tom, who was now leaning against the door frame, was staring after the woman, half amused, half disgusted. "Look at that fat old nutter, practically dancing out of the room."

Beatrice, who was trying to keep her hair out of her face and failing horribly, snorted. "She really thinks she's helping us- I feel sort've bad for her."

"Don't," Tom shrugged. "You ready to g-?" He broke off and felt himself go red.

"What?" She looked up at him, somewhat alarmed. _What's wrong with Riddle?_

"Mudblood." He didn't know what else to say. He just had to leave. Now. He had to get away from her. He couldn't be near her.

"You are a piece of work, you know that?" She rolled her eyes and headed out the door... and he was following after her. Cue horrified face.

"I just waited back to-" She stopped and glared.

"Call me that?"

"Er... no, I-" He was spluttering. He was a lunatic... _and it's her bloody fault!_

"Fascinating. Now if you'd excuse me, I have to watch a turkey thaw."

"I have to ask-" _Don't ask her about her hands... don't_... His heart was pounding in his head. _What's wrong with me? No! What's _happening _to me? Nothing's... nothing's wrong... with me..._

"Yes?" She'd finally turned to face him. "What?"

"What time we're doing those bloody lessons?"

"Oh," she frowned. "Right. After dinner, maybe?" He nodded.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"FINE!"

"What're you, four?" She took a deep breath. "Anyway, we should probably start tomorrow, seeing as she's-"

"We're done talking," he said flatly.

"Excuse- _excuse _me?"

"We're done talking-"

"You don't call the shots," she said through gritted teeth.

"Well it certainly couldn't be you- Mudbloods don't-"

"Stop calling me that!" She'd heard him say it loads of times, but now, suddenly, it bothered her.

"What would you like me to call you, Mudblood? Surely they don't give you names-"

"OH, YOU'RE ONE TO TALK!"

"Women," he shook his head, forcing himself to turn his back to her. "Over emotional- the world is better off without them-"

"Overemotional? Oh that's rich, coming from the prat who thinks feeling is beneath him! You wouldn't know emotion if it bit you in the ass!"

He wanted to punch her. "You don't- you think just because-" He wasn't sure where he was going with this. "Just... shut up Mudblood-"

"MY NAME," she bellowed, "IS BEATRICE!" _It wasn't unlike her to scream at him..._

He had the sudden urge to throw up... because he'd also had the sudden urge to hold her hand again. "_Beatrice_-"

"PISS OFF, RIDDLE! WHATEVER INSULT YOU HAVE- JUST STUFF IT!" _...but it was very much out of her character to run off the way she was right now._

She was embarrassed and angrier than she had reason to be. She didn't understand why, just yet, but sheknew that getting away from him would be the best thing at the moment...

He, on the other hand, loathed her even more for it, if that was possible. He felt like the scum of the Earth, and he was positive that it was her doing. She was trying to control him or something...

And it was, you know... _working_.

* * *

**It was, originally, very dramatic. The shouting match was longer and was way too overdone. So I changed it a lot...**

**Anyway, I hope this is alright so far. I'm starting to _really_ enjoy writing this, so hopefully more people will start reading it!!!!**

**cough And reviewing it... cough cough**

**THANKS:)**


	3. Potions Partners

**Sorry it took me so long to get anything up. I've just had a lot going on.**

**Enjoy... AND REVIEW.**

**Thanks. :)**

* * *

She was the only one who could ever get a rise out of him and she did it often. Every other girl could've made obscene gestures at him and went on for hours about his family, his blood line, and his skill as a wizard, and it wouldn't have thrown him one bit. And all yet _she_ had to do was walk in the room and shoot him one of those infuriating little _glances_ of hers, and he was writhing in his chair all day. He loathed her. He _abhorred_ her... _So, of course, I'm here._

They were in an empty classroom.

He was rolling his eyes, pretending that he simply didn't care whether or not he was doing well.

She was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, sighing impatiently. "_Concentrate_," she hissed. "Clear your mind."

"What makes you think I'm going to listen to _you_?" He snapped, biting his lip. _Clear your mind... clear your mind..._

"Are you ready yet?"

"YES-"

"_Legilimens!_" Images flashed through his mind sporadically. _He'd just been sorted into Slytherin... "10 points to Slytherin! Excellent Mr. Riddle!" Slughorn was clapping, a slight look of awe on his face... He was sitting in the orphanage... _

_"Ow! STOP IT!" A very small Beatrice turned around and slapped him._

_"YOU-SH-SHE SLAPPED ME!"_

_"Miss-"_

_"He pulled Alicia's hair!" She insisted._

_"Mr. Riddle?"_

_"She had a bit of lint-"_

_"No she didn't! He just gave it a great big tug- I saw him!" He turned and slapped Alicia in a manner that he thought rather brave. But when he saw Beatrice's gaze he felt himself wince. In spite of himself, he cowered a little where he stood and he heard snickers. She didn't even raise her hand to him. She just glared on, clearly hoping he might spontaneously combust where he stood. Tom was left with nothing to do but wish that those piercing green eyes would leave him, but they never did, and the snickers didn't stop. It was humiliating... Why hadn't anybody warned him about her? She was scary and he wanted to get as far from her as possible. Why wasn't he intimidating her? Why hadn't she winced at him? Why was he so scared of her now? Why hadn't-_

He felt the world spinning back into view and she stood there, arms folded. She didn't even blink. "What're you smirking-?" His voice faltered.

"I'm _not_ smirking?" She raised an eyebrow and gave him a strange look. _Still not smirking... Is she messing with me?_

"Why not?" He hadn't meant to ask, really...

"What for?"

"Didn't you see-?"

"Tom Riddle, at age eleven, cowering from the dirtiest look I could muster? I think I'd have been a bit flattered quite honestly," she laughed a little before adding hastily, "I'm not **stupid**- we were eleven. How immature do you think I am? I'm not going to harass you about something that happened nearly five years ago, even if it did _humiliate _you. Not even you are so immature that it still bothers you- and regardless, I can't be expected to taunt you about something so juvenile." This speech made him regret saying anything. He'd almost hoped she'd laughed at him instead. Because Beatrice had just done what Tom considered the cruelest, most awful thing possible. She'd made him feel stupid. _HER!_ It was near unbearable.

"My head hurts," he thought aloud.

"That happens." He looked somewhat startled to hear her voice. "I think that's enough for today."

"No, it's alright, we can-" She was giving him that odd look of hers again. "Could we try again tomorrow?" He grumbled. "You know, after that ridiculous session with Avery? I think that's when I'm at my most apathetic."

"Um... sure. Yeah. Alright." Beatrice nodded, though somewhat taken aback at the lack of insults fired her way. "Just don't tell her. I mean, we don't want her thinking she's doing her job do we?"

"Could you imagine if she ended up with 10 year because of it? I don't think I could live with myself." There was an awkward pause.

"Alright then- tomorrow. Just... keep practicing."

"Yeah- _how_?" He'd never asked for help, and he suddenly regretted it. Worry and nerves flooded his system, but just as instantly as they'd come fluttering in, they began to exit as she spoke quietly.

"Just," she bit her lip in thought. "I think you should just sort've try to clear your mind. Maybe before you go to bed?"

"Alright."

"Okay... Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he replied softly after her. _"Mudblood_."

"Riddle," she spat with equal disdain. Both Slytherin and Gryfindor exchanged nervous glares, if such a thing even existed, and went in their opposite directions for a moment, only to double back when they realized they were going in the _wrong _directions.

He hated embarrassment almost as much as he hated feeling stupid. It was a ridiculous feeling, and he, of all people, usually wouldn't have been one to blush so horribly. _It didn't really suit his pale features all that nicely-_ He suspected Beatrice often had this effect on people, and continued to suspect rather offensive things about her all the way to the common room. He'd even, accidentally, said her name instead of the password once he'd reached it (several careless wrong turns later). Flustering profusely as one of his fellow Slytherin's shot him a confused and somewhat concerned (though quite humble) glance, he brought himself to say the correct one and rush up to his dorm with as much dignity as could be expected.

Tom spent what seemed like hours trying to empty his mind. But he couldn't do it- and it wasn't as if he was occupied with the usual comforting images of a successful, powerful future, nor was it even occupied with the terrible, blurred memories of his childhood that sometimes haunted him. Instead, he found Beatrice's smirk rather hard to jerk from his mind. The only explanation Tom could really use to convince himself was that this must be some sort of side effect of having your mind so blatantly invaded (though she _claimed_ she held back)... but some little part of him hoped it wasn't. Some very sick, dead part of him that should be removed immediately. _Because it's not really there... and I need sleep._ He grimaced and rolled over in his bed angrily, thinking of lessons tomorrow. He was almost looking forward to them. _Almost_.

* * *

Beatrice was now regretting immensely that she'd come early for Potions. 

"Yes, Mrs. Avery's told me about your little _project_," Slughorn laughed. "Tom, I'd have thought you of all people would've recognized Beatrice here as the lovely young lady she is-"

"Sir, that woman is _insane_!" Beatrice protested as she and Tom exchanged looks. "She's got us practically using the bathroom together- certainly _you_, Professor, could appreciate our need for some privacy from one another!" As he shot a wink to Tom, she felt her stomach writhe. _Disgusting old man_...

"I'm sorry Beatrice," he offered, shooting a grin at Tom, "But I respect a fellow staff member's-"

"She doesn't work here- Will you STOP winking at Tom? You're not doing him some big favor by putting us together!" Slughorn stopped in mid-wink.

"You _will_ work together, Miss Emerski, and I don't want to hear another thing about it!" He replied with a forced cheerfulness. She frowned and slumped down into the chair next to him.

"Bloody fantastic," she grumbled, leaning her head against the table sleepily.

"Quiet, Emerski."

She sat up straight. "Wanna run that by me again?" She glared at him.

"You don't intimidate me," he laughed. It was amusing really, that she thought he was still eleven.

"Oh, I forget. You're not eleven," she replied calmly as she situated herself more comfortably in her seat.

"SO!" Slughorn began, interrupting Tom's retort. "That right there- at Mr. Riddle and Miss Emerski's table over there- is...? Yes Tom?" He hadn't even looked up and yet he still knew his prized student was raising his hand. _Disgusting_.

"Amortentia, sir. It's the strongest love potion known to wizard kind."

"Quite right! Yes, indeed, Mr. Riddle. You recognized it by it's color, y- Miss Emerski, is there a problem?" Slughorn had finally noticed Beatrice silently mocking Tom, screwing her face up and imitating him word-for-word. A good majority of the onlookers laughed, but a few shrank silently into their seats, though all the Slytherin's shot her looks of warning. She ignored them.

"No, sir. There's not."

"Kindly tell me how one could recognize Amortentia."

"The steam's characteristic spirals," she replied in the overly-enthusiastic way Tom tended to. She grinned in his direction before turning to face Slughorn.

"Correct," he replied begrudgingly.

"It's just that I can't smell it over T-"

"Over what, Miss Emerski?"

"Teddy bears," she replied lamely.

"Teddy bears?"

"Sorry- the potion's making me... woozy," she grumbled.

"Smells of drugs," Tom added loudly.

"For you maybe," she hissed.

"Very well," Slughorn smiled as if he hadn't just heard them speaking. "Both you and your partner will be making a love potion- not this one, of course. It's far too complicated for most of you, but something fairly strong none the less! Turn to page 184 in your textbook, please." Beatrice ignored the rest of what he said and began searching around for the ingredients.

"Was it me?" Beatrice nearly dropped the jars in her hand when she felt his hot breath on the back of her neck. Instead she went rather rigid as she hurriedly placed them onto their table.

"Was what you?" She spat, turning to face him and alarmed at their current closeness- though he more visibly so.

"The smell?" He smirked. "Did you-"

"Unfortunately," she replied curtly. Now it was _his_ turn to almost drop something and he practically choked as he swallowed, despite the fact that his mouth had gone unusually dry, just as she'd hoped. "Oh, you mean in the potion? No." She didn't have to look to know that he was angry at her. Despite the fact that he could probably turn a majority of the school against her, she took great pride in his annoyance and couldn't entirely suppress her laughter. Luckily, Slughorn took this as a sign of them getting along and not her laughing at Tom, or she would've landed herself a few detentions. He prized her as a student, to be sure. But _Tom_. Tom was his favorite. He was perfect in every way... _to the best of Slughorn's knowledge anyway- the idiot._

Regardless, she continued laughing, and only quieted when she saw the look on Lucy's face. She was, clearly, quite pleased with the scene displayed before her and _also _mistook it for Beatrice and Tom getting along.

* * *

"You two look like you were getting along pretty good," Lucy laughed, raising her eyebrows suggestively. 

"Why wouldn't they?" Beatrice glanced up at Andrea and Alicia.

"Not _us_- you and Riddle!"

"Oh _right_."

"Don't even try to deny it, Bea. I totally saw you giggling. And you were both staring at each other half the time- it's a wonder you managed to finish the potion."

"She tallied the amount of times you glanced at one another, actually," Andrea grinned, holding up a piece of paper covered in little marks. "He looked at you quite a bit more than you glanced at him- but you giggled. So I think you're even."

"I didn't _giggle_! I _laughed_... At _him_!"

"Oh, okay. And I'm secretly best friends with Myrtle." The Ravenclaw girl shot Alicia the nastiest look she could muster before stalking past them.

"Oh don't even talk about her- I hate her almost as much as I hate Riddle."

"So we should count on being replaced by her any day now?" Lucy joked.

"Gross," Alicia giggled.

"Whatever. We've got to hurry to lunch."

"Why?"

"She's got another chaperoned date with Riddle, I suppose."

"Why do you reckon Dippet's got them supervised?" Andrea asked loudly.

"PROBABLY," Andrea announced, "SO THEY DON'T GO AT IT- IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN."

"Shut up!" Beatrice hissed. "It's not a date- it's a _session_."

"Oh, excuse us; 'It's a _session_'."

"Right, like a make out session?" Beatrice glared at Lucy, but that didn't quiet her: especially now that Tom was edging nearer and nearer. She slowed down a bit and waited until he was practically walking next to them. "It's a make out session that you've got going with Bea, right, Tom?" Beatrice didn't look like she wanted to die, but she looked like she wanted _Lucy_ to.

"Oh, yes, _of course_," Tom sneered.

"See? He's not denying it Bea."

"Ugh!" Beatrice threw her hands up in the air and stomped off to the Great Hall.

"I suppose she wants to hurry so you can start early," Lucy informed him.

* * *

**It was short, but I wanted to get something up... and I didn't really want to change this... so I hope it was okay.**

**Review please? I'll return the favor.**

**Noooow I just have to get going on my _other_ story.**

**Crap.**


	4. Tedius Tasks

**I'm slightly paranoid that maybe the plot isn't moving as quickly as I'd like.**

**But I'm hoping and pretending that secretly it is.**

* * *

Hours later, Tom was sitting in the girls' bathroom. This was by far the most tedious task (aside from anything to do with Beatrice) he'd yet encountered at Hogwarts. But he was so close to saying the right thing; He was so close to opening it... _So close..._

"I DID IT!" Beatrice came bursting out of one of the stalls enthusiastically. She let out a small yelp of triumph.

"Went all by yourself, did you?" He couldn't help himself.

Beatrice turned around stiffly, eyes narrowed. "What are you doing in here? Despite popular belief, Riddle, you are, in fact, a boy!"

"I-I..." He looked around the room, as if it might have an excuse written on the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the time on a nearby clock. "Was looking for you. We have to go to Avery's."

To this she replied stubbornly, "You don't need me in order to go."

"I just thought she might end lessons early if she saw us going together."

Beatrice thought to say something sarcastic or rude, but found herself remaining decidedly quiet.

"So what was the cheering about?" He asked suspiciously.

"I completed something."

"In the bathroom?"

"I don't owe you an explanation," she answered briskly. "Are we going to detention with that nutter or not?"

"Only after you wash your hands."

"I wasn't going to the bathroom."

"So? I'm _not _going to hold your hand if it's gross." She ignored him. "I... mean, if she has us shake hands again-?" She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed and headed over to the sink. She washed her hands and then flicked the water at him.

"I thought you might melt," she added lamely, inwardly berating herself moments after.

"There's such a thing as paper towels," he mentioned disapprovingly as they rounded the corner. Her hands were still a little wet.

In response to this, she walked up behind him and dragged both the front and back of her hands against the back of his robes. Despite her intent in doing this, he felt his face heat up. He stopped in mid-step and she walked right into him, the top of her head lightly brushing the back of his neck as she let out a little yelp.

"Watch where you're going," he snapped with all the anger he could.

"Why don't _you_ warn a person before you just stop in the middle of the hall!" She retorted scathingly.

He hissed a childish "No." before doing it again a few seconds later. Beatrice, knowing full well that he would do it again, had her elbows up and he felt the sharp jabs on either side of his back. "Oh _very _mature."

"No," she mocked. A few silent minutes passed between the two. "Wow, this must be the longest walk I've ever taken. I suppose this is because I'm walking with you." She looked up for a reaction, but he didn't give her one. Beatrice scowled.

He lamely grunted, "We're here," and they stepped into the classroom one after the other.

"Where did you come from that it took you so long?" Trina Avery asked suspiciously.

"I was walking with _him_," Beatrice replied, biting back any sort of resentment.

"With him?"

"Yeah. _And?_"

"Tom, were you walking with her?"

"Yes ma'm."

"You two are the biggest liars-"

"How else would we have gotten here at the same time?" Beatrice pointed out.

"What were you talking about on the way here?" They exchanged looks. _Ha! Stumped them._

"Potions," they replied simultaneously, exchanging knowing smirks. _Ah. Nothing quite like exchanging a joke with an enemy in the privacy of their mind..._

"Very well," the woman replied suspiciously, taking a sip from a water jug in front of her. "How are the lessons you're giving each other going?"

"Well enough," Beatrice replied stoically.

"Mr. Riddle? How do you think you're doing?"

"Not especially fantastic," he replied admittedly before adding, "But _she's_ been a fairly good teacher." As he said this, he shot her the most sincere smile he could manage _(purely for the Avery idiot's benefit, of course!) _and Beatrice felt the color pouring into her cheeks. _This is stupid..._

"Right," the plump woman answered, still not believing them very much.

"I-I learned easy enough," Beatrice added, taking a swig from the water in front of her

"Was Tom good?"

Beatrice coughed and choked on her water before replying with a small, squeaky, _"Pardon?"_

"Was he a good teacher?"

"Yeah," she grunted.

_What'd you think she meant? _The thought floated through her mind.

_Go away, Riddle._

_Make me._

_You want me to?_

"Stop it!" Mrs. Avery spat.

"Stop what?"

"You're having a conversation, I can tell."

"With all do respect, Mrs. Avery, I think you're becoming slightly paranoid."

_I'm a little concerned. I think she should see a shrink,_ Tom's thought came floating in and Beatrice let out a snort.

"See?!" Trina accused.

"It's just... ridiculous to think we'd be passing little mental notes when we could just be doing it under the desk."

Mrs. Avery kept herself from angering them and suggesting what, exactly, she suspected them to be doing under desks, by instead deciding upon an activity that might help them better understand one another

"I think, today, we should have you interview one another," she offered.

... and making things, altogether, that much worse.

* * *

**I'm slightly surprised at the direction this story is going in.**

**Sorry the chapter is so short. And maybe lame.**

**I hope it's not lame, but I don't know.**

**The next chapter will be up tonight. I swear.**

**I'm almost done with it_ now, _actually. It's just that I'm taking a break from the dramatic portion to come in this story. I sort've wanted to give it one last imature giggle before reality rears it's ugly, vindictive head.**

**Ew, I just realized White Houses was about Vanessa Carlton having sex. LOL.**

**Wow. Okay...**

**Review please? Even though I think you know I want you to do that by now.**

**BUT SECRETLY DON'T...**

**... secretly.**

**(napkin)**


	5. Bothering Beatrice

**Beatrice's interview. :)**

**I'm not sure how short I should consider it.**

**TOLD YOU IT'D BE UP BY TONIGHT! Woo.**

**I was actually right for once. :)**

**Enjoy. Read. Review.**

**ERR.**

**Okay, I'm done now...**

* * *

"Right." 

"Alright- go."

"Don't rush me, Mudblood."

"HURRY UP RIDDLE- I'm not rushing, I'm _hurrying_-"

"Why don't we start with you telling me about your family," he said innocently.

"My family."

"Yeah, your family. Go on. You have one, right?"

She glared at him. "Of course. No, I just spawned up from the ground- sent up from hell- just like you. _Anyway," _she continued, ignoring Mrs. Avery's sighs, "My mom had me early- our family's had a lot of that. Barely out of Hogwarts when she ended up getting herself pregnant. She's nice though. My dad's... around. I don't have siblings though. Cousins, yeah. Siblings... not so much."

"Do you intend to carry on the tradition of having accidents- I mean _children_ irresponsibly early and taking an awkward guess at who the father might be?"

"Yeah, I do," she spat sarcastically. "I used to try with Potter all the time- and any other guy that would have me, really. For good measure. That way I can guess like it's a game show or something. For laughs."

"I detected a hint of sarcasm... Did I offend you?"

"Oh, no, of _course_ not," Beatrice replied. "I would never dream of being offended by _you_. Ask away- go on, ask another."

"Why Potter?"

"Potter? Why Potter _what_?"

"Why're you dating him?"

"How is that a legitimate question?"

"Because I can understand what sort've person you get along with," he replied coolly.

"Why Potter? Well really, I don't think he's a good example, because we broke it off yesterday- but Potter because he was funny, and loyal... and we got along well," she shrugged.

"So why _not_ Potter?"

"I think you should remember that by going in the direction that you are, you're giving me permission to do the same when it's _your_ turn to be interrogated."

"Why _not_ Potter?" He repeated.

"Because there's another girl in Gryffindor that he's much better suited with- he didn't say so, before you ask. I just think she was. So it just wouldn't have worked."

"So you sacrificed your own happiness-?"

"For his? Yeah. That's what decent people do, Riddle. Would you like me to write that down for you?"

"There's no need to make this personal."

"Oh, of course not- because asking about why I broke it off with my boyfriend of several months is not in the least bit personal. Why don't you ask me next about whether or not I'm sexually active?"

"Are you?" Tom was quite pleased with himself. He hadn't even blushed.

"Are you going to let him ask me that?" She turned to Mrs. Avery, but in vein. "Oh, _fine_- That's sexual harassment! I _think_- if it's not well..."

"Do you even know how sex works?"

"No, see, and _that_ right there is a perfect-"

"Let me explain it in a way that you might understand-"

"-example of why he should be labeled a sociopath-"

"-males have keys-"

"-and maybe also expelled from Hogwarts-"

"-females- _that's you_- have locks-"

"-and die in the fetal position-"

"-understand?"

"-because he looks so much like a fetus anyway- No, Tom Riddle. Of course not- could you please speak slower?" She pointed to the tape recorder-like instrument on the desk. "Because I'm sure Dippet would _also_ like to hear how it works and I'm not sure if it was all that clear the first time you said it."

"So you only dumped Potter because he might be better off with someone else? How would that make him a bad person to imitate if one was seeking to get along with you?"

"_Are _you seeking to get along with me?" She waited for the 'no' so she could give her rather witty comeback, but it didn't come.

"You can ask when it's your turn to interview me."

"Why? Because it takes you that long to register 'yes' or 'no'?"

"Answer the question."

"I don't know. I suppose he is a good example of someone I get along with."

"Nothing more?"

"The spark just left, I guess."

"Why do you suppose that is?" He hoped he didn't sound too interested. Or... interested at all for that matter.

"I don't know. My attention has otherwise been occupied."

"By what?"

"The house elves," she replied sarcastically. "Not that it's any of your business Riddle, but I can't answer that question as it is. I'm not sure myself."

"Do you have suspicions?"

"I have suspicions, yes."

"And what do you suspect they are?"

"What do you suspect is going to happen to you if you ask me that one more time?"

"What do you-"

"This interview is over."

"No it's not. Not until I say so."

"Then say it."

"No."

"SAY IT!"

"...That wasn't necessary."

"I know, but it made me feel better."

"Beatrice, don't hit him."

"Oh, _now_ she talks- now that he's done asking me about sex and what porn it is that I'd probably fancy most."

"I didn't ask that yet."

"Shut up."

"When I first came to Hogwarts, I sort've thought witches would be pretty," he said, giving her a meaningful once-over.

"Funny you say that. I thought wizards were going to be hideous, un-charming sort of creatures- Don't worry though, Tom. You didn't disappoint that image at all-"

"I have another question."

"Fantastic."

"Where did you first get the very misguided notion that you should constantly be talking?"

"I don't know- where did you get the idea that you should keep breathing? Eating?"

"Are you suggesting I attain an eating disorder?"

"Why not? You make me throw up every time I talk to you."

"I'm glad I can claim credit to _something_ that keeps you from talking-"

"That's foul."

"Can I induce this now, perhaps?"

"Only if I can make you eat it."

"_That's_ foul."

"So is lurking in the girls' toilets."

"So how does it feel to be the newest accident in your family?"

"Great, really. How do you think it will feel to have my foot shoved up-"

"Wrap it up, Mr. Riddle."

"Two more questions. Firstly, what do you intend to do with your life once you've left Hogwarts- or, you know, been expelled?"

"If my life is completely ruined and homeless, I think I'd do you in with the most painful curse I could find and then seek shelter in Azkaban. They might even give me a nice plaque or a dementor-free place, because it was only you- but if I don't get thrown out? I think I'd write. Yeah... I'd want to do that. Or be an auror."

"You realize you have to have an IQ higher than your age in order to become either, yes?"

"Yeah- hence the basis of it's appeal. _You_ won't be working with me."

"Mr. Riddle, I think that's been two questions-"

"Oh no. Give him one more," Beatrice replied, somewhat tauntingly. _She's daring me... _"One question I'll actually answer."

"Why do you have warm hands?" She stared at him.

"Warm hands?"

"Yeah."

"I don't...?"

"Actually, Mudblood, you _do _have warm hands. Because every single time I've touched them-"

"Tom, I seriously have no idea what you're talking about... watch." She put her hands on his arm. They were extremely cold, but warm at the same time. It was an odd sensation... like they were tingling or something. It was an icy burn. "See?"

Mrs. Avery smiled knowingly and he felt sick.

"Yeah..."

"Alright, my turn," Beatrice grunted.

"No it's not."

"Yeah it is. Shut up and hit the pause button for a sec- OW TOM!"

"You got in the way-"

"BEATRICE!"

"What? It's not like I-"

"You are not to assault him further!"

"One _nudge_-"

"Mudblood-"

"Two nudges tops."

"Beatrice, stop it!" The poor woman was going to go out of her mind if she had to separate them one more time.

"Shut the recording off for a minute- I have to go to the bathroom."

"Make sure to use the right one," Beatrice spat after him. "That's the one _without_ the witch's hat and dress." He glared at her before hurrying out of the room.

* * *

**My little childish rants and arguements are in here at last:)**

**I've actually had some of these conversations with these people and sort've remembered them and was like "Hm... Tom might say that."**

**Hopefully they're not super out of character?**

**We can only hope. Or at least, I can.**

**Okay... well... that's about it. :)**

**Wait for Tom's. Haha.**

**And if you didn't review, I will sob and sob and sob. And maybe die a little inside.**

**Do you really want to be responsible for that?**


	6. Emerski Expecting

**I don't have an excuse for why I've been neglecting my writing so much. Things have been tough. I'm trying!!**

* * *

Beatrice stood up, angrily as the thought fluttered through her head.

_Leave..._

"I'm sure he'll be in here soon," Mrs. Avery began, eyeing the door anxiously.

"I've got work to do. I'm falling behind in Potions," Beatrice replied. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Avery, but I've really got to go."

"Miss Emerski--"

"I can't keep waiting for him," she sighed. _I wonder what he's up to..._

"Very well. Goodnight Beatrice." Beatrice nodded and ducked out of the classroom. She glanced behind her. She'd have at least five minutes before Mrs. Avery left. She could get to the bathroom without any detection and ensure that Riddle hadn't-- she sprinted right into something. "Oof!" it grunted, losing its balance. She fell backward and someone grabbed her wrist, jerking her forward. She glanced up to meet Tom Riddle's burning gaze.

"Hello," he whispered, all too close for her liking.

"Hello," she practically whimpered in return. "I didn't... see... you..." She trailed off.

He snorted. "I knew you were stupid, Mudblood, but surely even _you_ are capable of forming a sentence."

"I... I..."

"Apparently not." He smirked, releasing her wrist.

She frowned and punched his shoulder. "Way to leave me in there! Why couldn't you have warned me sooner? I wouldn't have waited _at all_. But--"

"Not that I owe you an explanation, but it just so happens that I stumbled upon something on my way from the lavatory," he replied coldy.

"Oh?" She fought to keep the curiousity out of her vioce. "Sure. And for _that_ you couldn't have given me a little mental note--"

"I think, if you let me speak, you would understand why that was difficult."

She blinked and stared on impaciently. "Yes?" She pressed finally.

"Oh, well, if you _insist_," he smirked, "I was rather intent on concentrating on a certain conversation regarding _your_ ...situation at the moment. You've landed yourself in quite a tight spot, haven't you? Dealing with Myrtle-- I would've never suspected. But she's explained the whole thing to Margaret Barnsby and you know that girl. Her mouth runs faster than one of those muggle sports cars. The little Ravenclaw filth is trying to ruin your name. Apparently, she's got a few plans for you."

The color drained out of her face. "Do you have any intention of giving me those plans?" Beatrice whispered. The sound barely came out and he had to lean forward to hear her.

"Perhaps, but now is not the time." She glanced up at him, curiousity etched across her pale features. "Avery is coming."

Beatrice nodded. She could feel his breath on her neck when she turned her back to him. Beatrice stiffened instinctively before quickening her pace. The _last_ thing she needed was to draw further attention to herself. Even if it was just with the teachers... Myrtle was going to give her enough to cover up. She didn't want to be associated with Tom Riddle on top of _that_. For both of their sakes.

She walked on in a sort of numb stupor. It took her nearly five minutes to realize that she was being followed. She whipped around but nobody was there. Her heart began to beat twice as quickly in her chest. _Calm down. Keep walking... Nevermind that the castle is dangerous now, nevermind that a deranged Ravenclaw is going to ruin you, nevermind that someone is following you..._ She groaned, quickening her pace. Her persuer was close behind now. _Maybe it's Tom. I bet he's trying to scare me..._ She concentrated hard, attempting to detect his whereabouts. The only light she could see was that of the library. She broke into a sprint, the glow of her sanctuary looming closer. She didn't even have time to care where Tom was. Beatrice dashed into the quiet room, fumbling with a nearby book, desperate to look inconspicuous. She knew she was growing paranoid, but who cared? Did she not have reason?

Beatrice scanned the books, hopeful that her persuer had avoided such a public place. It was then, with a suprising satisfaction, her gaze fell to Tom Riddle. Eyes shifting, he clutched a book close to him. He plopped into a lone beanbag chair in the corner with unnatural grace.

She persued him eagerly. "So what's Myrtle going to--"

He nearly fell out of his chair, stuffing the book under his robes.

"What's that?" Beatrice frowned.

He scowled. "Nothing important... you just startled me... Why are you _lurking_ around here anyway?"

"I wanted to find out what Myrtle's got planned for me."

"Patience really isn't your talent, is it?"

She ignored this. "You can hardly expect me to wait. I was followed here, Riddle! I need to know what she's got planned."

He sighed. "Let's go," he grunted, thrusting his book under the bean bag and grabbing her wrist. She followed him into the nearest empty classroom and situated herself atop one of the nearby desks.

She glanced up at him expectantly.

"You have some sort of secret, unnatural talent," he growled. "Which, I suppose, should be no shock to me, since you appear to have no purpose for life _otherwise_. Whatever it is must be fairly strange, because the Ravenclaw Mudblood intends to blackmail you with it. Apparently you hold the attention of some boy she's after. Whoever it is," he sighed, "He's important to her and you're refusing to let her stake her claim, I assume? No matter-- The important bit, I suppose, is that she's intending to tell him."

"That's _it_?" Beatrice growled. "She's going to just _tell_? Surely she'd be more creative than... ugh!" She threw her hands up in the air.

"Much harder to thwart that way."

"Don't listen to her, please?"

"What does that matter-?" He slipped into her mind casually.

"Being smug doesn't suit you."

He chuckled. "You're protecting me from _Mudblood Myrtle_."

"I simply intended to piss her off. I didn't realize she'd blow it so out of proportion! She can have you!"

"You know," he began calmly, "I'm curious as to what it is you're taking such pains to hide from me. In the folds of your mind, there's some big dark secret of yours Beatrice Emerski, and I'm going to find it."

Her face heated up immediately. "No, you won't! This isn't a laughing matter, Riddle! This isn't some secret crush or embarassing moment. It's got everything to do with... _stuff_. She's messing with the _wrong_ witch if she thinks she can just--"

"Calm down...er... Mudblood."

"If this gets out..." She sighed. "She already told Maggie-"

"Margaret-"

"-that I'm--"

"_You're?_" He pressed.

"It hardly matters."

"Oh yes it _does_," he whispered, "if you're _special_... different..." His eyes flashed dangerously.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. There's something you're hiding. But I suppose maybe it _doesn't_ matter, seeing that she's going to expose you soon enough."

Beatice's unmistakable leer followed him like a spotlight.

"Oh, come now, Mudblood."

"Please, Riddle, I need your help," she groaned. "You're the last one I'd turn to... but you need to stop her. You need to convince her--"

"Tell me your big secret."

"I'm... _pregnant_," she replied. Her own eyes widened as she said it, but she forced herself to keep breathing. She kept her mind concentrated on a baby... and Potter's face...

"You're pregnant?" His voice broke.

"She's going to tell everyone," Beatrice cried. "I can't deal with this!"

"You're really...?"

"Yes," she whimpered, letting a small shudder escape.

He put his hands on both of her shoulders, his eyes boring a hole into her forehead. She finally met his gaze. "It's Potter's?"

"... I think," she whispered.

His jaw hardened, his eyes closed, and he took in a deep breath. "I'll do everything I can... to help..."

"Thanks..."

"One question."

"Yes?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you get pregnant?"

"I didn't mean to!"

"These things aren't..." He shook his head in disbelief. "You're pregnant."

"I think we've established that..."

"This isn't funny! This isn't some joke!" He shouted.

She looked taken aback. "No kidding!"

"How could you do that? With more than one--?" He averted her gaze, attempting to supress the building anger.

"Why are _you_ so mad? It's not yours! You've got nothing to worry about!"

"You're so _calm_! You haven't been eating healthy... Have you told anyone?"

"No..."

"What are you going to do with it? Just throw it away along with the rest of your life?"

She glared up at him. "No, I'll leave him at an orphange to be tortured by some arrogant wizard every summer!" When he didn't reply, she continued, "Don't lecture me! Ugh! Like you're father of the year, right?! You don't even know what they're supposed to do."

"Shut up," he spat, stepping toward her.

"Make me," she growled, edging closer.

His face was contorted. He looked pained. "I don't care what you think about me," he grunted, "But I'll keep Myrtle quiet if you promise... to keep the baby."

Beatrice kept her face emotionless as she nodded. "Fine."

"Fine." He sauntered out of the room. She cringed as the classroom door slammed shut. She sighed and let out a long shudder before trudging angrily back to her dormitory. She swung the door open and let it swing back into the frame with a loud bang.

"What are _you_ so pissed about?" Lucy probed, jerking back the curtains of her four-poster bed.

"T- _Riddle_ thinks I'm..."

"You're... _what_?"

"He thinks I'm pregnant." Her friend raised an eyebrow.

"How am I supposed to react to this?" She snorted in disbelief. "I... _Why?_" Lucy barely trusted her voice.

"Remember that... dark magic thing... I've been telling you about?"

Lucy groaned. "No Bea... _no_. You didn't?!"

* * *

**Gah. The status of this particular chapter is... pending. Even when it's posted, the characters are simply _not _agreeing with the plot at all. It's quite frustrating. So the plot has taken an unexpected turn that I'm not sure I particularly like. Still... I'm trying. I'm sleepy. It's 3:30 A.M. right now but I have been craving the chance to FINISH one of these damned stories! That and I randomly read my comment and I saw someone say something like "Is it unrealistic to expect an update?" and they were very much correct in that I've been lazy. So I thank you for the polite kick in the pants.**

**Anywho.**

**Do I even have to say it? (PLEASE REVIEW! I'll return the favor.)**

**I want to finish this thing. So expect updates. I'll try! I promise.**


	7. Hell in Hypnosis

****

I'm not sure where this is going anymore. Gah...

**But none of this is mine, save for the few characters I made up, yadda yadda...**

**Here.**

* * *

Beatrice got little sleep that night, and when she finally did fall asleep, her dreams were uncomfortably vivid. They were not consoling in the least. Guilt tore at her unmercilessly from all sides. In the morning she looked like crap, and barely touched her food. She couldn't rid of the sinking feeling her stomach at all, but the only way to avoid her friends' scrutiny was to distract herself with her plate. Mindlessly, she pushed her toast around her plate with a fork. Beatrice was so very much in a daze that she _nearly _missed the sudden shuffling at her side... the gazes of all four houses shifting to her...

She glanced up to see Tom Riddle plant himself next to her. "Er... what are you doing?" She murmured, confused.

"You barely touched your food," he grunted as if there was nothing particularly unoardinary occuring. _She_, however, could do little more than stare blankly up at him as if he'd grown an extra head.

"Riddle...?"

"Here, eat some of this."

"I'm not hungry," she said.

"Don't let your own petty nerves keep _anyone else_ from being fed..." He muttered with disinterest. "And at any rate, you've got nothing to worry about. I told you already that I would take care of it, and I have."

"I'm not worried about _her_. But thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied quickly. "And if you aren't worried, why aren't you eating? You normally devour your meals."

"What, do you watch me eat?"

"It's hard to miss."

She glared at him. "I just don't feel like eating."

"Just try _something_," he pressed. "Please?"

She eyed him before reaching for her untouched piece of toast.

"Thank you." She would have choked on her toast if it had been in her mouth yet.

"Mhm," she nodded, standing up. She nibbled on her food as she left slowly, Tom right behind her. When they reached the entrance to the Great Hall, she jerked him behind a nearby suit of armor. "Why are you making this your problem?" She pleaded.

"Someone has to."

"I'm taking responsibility."

"I can tell. You barely touched your food. You're going to get sick."

"Is that _concern_ in your voice?" She teased.

"Please, not for you. For the _baby_. I just want it to..."

"Don't worry," she sighed. "Please. Promise you won't. Don't make this your problem. I already hate myself enough," she laughed bitterly.

He took in her expression. She looked exhausted. Perhaps this pregnancy would kill her as it had _his_ mother; she wasn't even showing yet and already Beatrice looked weak.

"Don't worry about me," she repeated.

He replied, "I will worry when I see fit, but don't worry about what _I _think. You rarely do. Why start now?" He tried to offer a smile, but he couldn't humble himself enough to make it convincing. "You'll have enough to be concerned about. How will you tell your mother?"

"My mother can't complain. Besides, I'll take care of myself."

"Alone?"

"That's what I'm implying, yes," she smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about me."

"I won't. Now, we should probably be getting ready for Divination."

She groaned. "Great."

* * *

"I can carry my books!"

"You look tired."

She frowned at him and hurried up the steps.

Unfortunately, their teacher was in a particularly passionate mood today. She'd decided that involving the class would be the most productive use of her time and she would not rest until the most reluctant kids were center stage making asses of themselves in ways that would haunt them for the rest of their lives. The usual.

"Who wants to volunteer first?"

Lucy rolled her eyes and raised her hand.

"This," she began starry-eyed, "is something a _muggle_ can actually perform. It takes little magic but_ a lot_ of concentration. Now watch. Lucy, look at my eyes." The small girl glanced up reluctantly and the teacher held her gaze. Her eyes seemed to have a glazed look to them now and her body stiffened. "They do this at shows all the time!" the teacher giggled. "Now, Lucy, I want you to sit with the most handsome boy in the room," she grinned.

Lucy stood, walking obediently over to Jeremy Spinnet. This was followed by oohs and ahhs, giggling, and Jeremy's severe blush.

"The problem is, that if a witch or wizard does this," Professor Amador explained, "We have more magic than a muggle. Any order will be followed, whether the hypnotist requested it or an outside party. It's very hard to control. It's very important that you all stay quiet..."

"Alright we'll just go in order from there... Ah, Beatrice! Looks like you're next, Hon. Come on up." Beatrice groaned. "Oh don't be shy! Come on, there's nothing to be nervous about... Now look at my eyes-- there we go. Beatrice, _Beatrice_," she repeated more firmly. Her eyes developed the same glazed look. "Now, go sit with the most handsome boy in the classrom." Beatrice stood up and sat herself on Tom Riddle's lap, straddling him.

"Beatrice, kiss him," Andrea giggled. Beatrice's body complied immediately. Her head tilted and she obediently crushed his lips with hers. Tom's eyes widened, but he made no visible effort of stopping her. All he could do was listen to her thoughts shouting at him. _What am I doing? _Impulsively, his lips moved with hers. She held his face to hers and he became putty in her hands. He had no control over the situation. His heart was racing and suddenly he became aware of the scolding.

"MISS CLARIMONT!" The teacher shouted. "Ten points from Gryfin- Oh dear. Beatrice, _stop that. _Wake, both of you!" The two girls' heads rolled back but Tom stared openly at Beatrice, ignoring Lucy's "awakening". Beatrice took in a sharp intake of breath, her eyes shut. It was as if she'd just inhaled the life back into her body. The color spread in her cheeks and, unaware of her surroundings, she leaned to the side and choked out a cough. He grabbed her wrists, faintly aware of the commotion on Lucy's side.

"Beatrice," he grunted. "Come on, _Beatrice_..." Her eyes flashed open. She was on his lap. "Are you alright Mudblood?"

"I'm fine," she said, an unmistakeable edge to her voice.

The teacher clapped her hands. "Well... So who wants to volunteer next?"

"Professor, what did we just do?" Lucy interjected.

"Well, _you_ sat with the boy you felt was the most handsome boy in the room-- Mr. Spinnet over there."

"But Bea didn't?"

"Miss Emerski was given _outside _instruction," she spat. "Miss Clarimont thought it would be particularly clever to tell her to _kiss_ Mr. Riddle."

"Did I?" Beatrice looked mortified as she untangled herself from Tom's lap.

"Yes."

"I didn't," she insisted. "I couldn't have kissed him."

"If you kissed him right now, you would be able to feel the familiarity of it. A sort of deja vu, if you will."

"I'll pass."

"_Good_," Tom muttered scathingly.

* * *

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!" Andrea called after her.

"Oh _right_! She'd just finished SAYING--"

"Bea, I'm sorry."

"I _kissed_ him!" She growled. "I actually... _fuck!_ I kissed _hiiiiim,_ Andrea!"

"I'm really sorry. I owe you one... really _stupid_ something. Whatever you want, I'll do it..." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"What did he do?"

"He just kissed you back, I suppose." They were nearing their Transfiguration class, which was also with the Slytherins. Everyone of them was there... except _him_.

"I have to go."

"Bea, we've got class in, like, two seconds!"

"I don't care-- Can you tell the teacher I'm not feeling well?"

"... Sure," Andrea eyed her. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go find him."

"Alright. Be careful!" Beatrice ignored her, concentrating on finding his thoughts... they'd become freakishly in-tune with one another over the past few weeks.

When she _finally_ located him, he was sitting in the same corner of library she'd found him in the night before. Despite his belief of being alone, he was obviously trying to hide the book.

"What's _this_?" Beatrice taunted behind him, snatching the book up. It was _not _what she'd been expecting.

"This is just-- something Slughorn--"

She snickered. "The Symptoms of Love: How to--"

"Give it back!" He commanded. _How had he not noticed her?_

"So who is the poor bitch?" She taunted, dropping the book in his lap.

His mouth twitched. She wouldn't take it as a confession, and his intent: to insult her, would be accomplished, but... "It's for a project!"

"Oh, you're learning to swoon over yourself? Cause I think you've been doing a pretty good job of-"

"Shut up!"

"Hit a nerve," she muttered to herself. "Must remember that one..." then much louder she said, "Oh, right, nobody even gave you _the_ _talk_- You're reading something from the restricted section, _aren't you_?" A few third years directed their stares toward the pair.

"No, I'm _not_!" He insisted defensively, lowering his voice. "And I know how _that_ works-"

"So then what's the problem? You're not exactly the romantic type..."

"How would you know?" She gestured, with both hands toward him, as if that somehow explained everything.

"Tom." She said his name abruptly and seriously.

"_What_?"

"Have you hit puberty yet?" It was barely asked as a question, and Beatrice frowned as she asked it. "Well I suppose you have... Huh."

"_What?" _He spat once more.

"So, not that I care... but maybe I should teach you how to be nice to girls _instead_ of--"

"Absolutely not."

"The baby could be effected," she whispered, casting her eyes downward. "The magic could be too much... the mind invading..." A low blow.

"I'll think about it," he growled.

She sighed, fighting the guilty expression back.

"Why did you come here? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"I could say the same thing about you."

"Yes but _you_ came looking for _me_. What did you want?"

"Well I... I really don't know," she grimaced.

"You were just... _compelled_ to seek me?" He asked sarcastically.

"To be honest, I'm just really... I dunno... with the kissing deal in Divination... I'm _pissed_ that she'd let it happen, but I'm not sure... what the gain in bring this up would be, now that I think about it."

He smirked. "It wasn't that horrible, you know. It wasn't some big, passionate kiss. It lasted for a few seconds. I hardly remembered it, actually. I hope it doesn't make _you_ uncomfortable."

"Not at _all_," she grunted. "Actually, I was just curious as to why _you _didn't stop me." _HA! THAT whiped the smirk off of his stupid face._

"I tried. You were unyeilding. Apparently you wanted me."

"You're a liar."

"No, I'm really not."

"Prove it."

"How?"

Beatrice's gaze became fixed on him... His smirk returned. _He's blocking me out of his mind?!_

"Oh you're going to try _that_ again? Well maybe I'd just like to leave you in suspense, then. I'll let it sink in that our entire year is going to be aware of your apparent lust for me by tomorrow."

"_I _was just following orders," she growled. "I wasn't even aware--"

"As a matter of fact, on a very small level, you _were_. That's the thing with hypnosis. And besides that, aware or not, you clearly find me attractive."

"Yeah, well..." She glared at him, at a loss for words. "It doesn't matter. I despise you."

"Yeah, _okay_ Mudblood. I believe you." His words dripped with sarcasm. She wanted to kick him. He sensed her hostility but continued, "It's fine. Myrtle 'despise' me too."

"Don't compare me to _her_."

"Oh, I would never dream of it."

She bared her teeth, a low grumble emitting from her chest.

"Even if you were diserable to _me_, I shouldn't be so flattered. You clearly distrust me too much to admit your _true _feelings for me."

"Or, perhaps," she spat, "It is the _other_ option that you're not voicing-- that I was sick of every other boys' lap."

He made a disgusted face.

_Must remember: The subject of intamacy bothers him. _"Well, I'll just leave you to check a few more of your 'syptoms' off," she grunted. "The Symptoms of Love. Ha." She paused for a moment before letting out a snicker. "Really, and I always stuck you as the dominant type..."

"Pardron?"

"You were _putty_ _in my hands_," she taunted, quoting his thoughts from the afternoon.

He growled, "Shut up."

* * *

**This chapter I am most definitely not liking.**

**My only excuse is that I am, in fact, medicated and horribly sleep deprived.**

**That and writers block make this kind of hell. I just wrote it because I want to get this done with. Can you tell? That's horrible motive. I think I may just inadvertantly butcher the entire plot and this will have been for nothing.**

**But it's 2 in the morning and, alas, I have some sort of crap scrounged up for the few of you who (bless you) are still kind of reading this.**

**It might be off too because I decided I wanted to put some random "outtake" from a past chapter in here.**

**GAH. Okay I am just going to save it now before I delete the entire story and pull my hair out.**

**I want to change these chapters, I think. I'm getting more and more insecure about my writing and I overthink stuff and gah (wtf, I think this is like my new word today...)! So if you have any suggestions-- or want to lie to me and reassure me that I should just leave it-- I'd really appreciate it.**

**Shit.**

**Okay, well that's about it.**

**Review pleaseee. Even though this really doesn't deserve it.**

* * *


	8. ANOTHER Crappy Chapter

**Wow. Three ungodly-houred posts in a row!**

**I'm trying?**

**Sorry for the early alarm about it being out.**

**I read it, got pissed off about how random it was, and cut out half of it.**

**Just to show you how compulsive I am. And I began the reconstructing at 3:30 in the morning.**

* * *

"You're _horrible_!" She blundered. "You are the most disgusting, horrid, awful, terrible, worthless, vile _creature droppings_ I have ever had the misfortune of stepping in!" As she spoke, her voice shook with anger. "I bet I'll miscarry because of you!" She growled, stomping down the halls.

"Don't blame your spawn's fate on me!"

"You're so vile I can't even think of anything to call you!"

"Maybe it would be _good_ if that _thing_ you produce wasn't subjected to your parenting anyway," he called after her.

"That is LOW. That is SICK even for you," she shouted behind her. "I hope you _rot_ Riddle, and not just rot, but waste away in the most painful way possible. I hope you live on the cusp of death for eternity and even THAT would not be a fitting enough punishment for you!" Her chest was heaving as he grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. "LET GO OF ME-"

"I hope that _you_ are deprived of all your pretty traits. I hope that you..." He shook his head, at a loss for words. "I hope that your wish comes true, Mudblood, because you would suffer right along with me." The confidence in his voice even suprised _him_. "Because I know that you _love_ me, you _need_ me too much to really wish that were true."

There was no doubt that the dominant emotion in her eyes was fury.

"That just shows an arrogant prat you are."

"You blow everything out of proportion."

"ME? Which one of us..." She threw her hands up in the air, lowering her voice as a few fifth years passed them. "Which one of us hexed Wood--"

"He was asking for it."

"He was just talking to me," she spat. "And you waltz up and start muttering curses under your breath. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Floorboard intended to ask you out," he replied nonchalontly. "And I didn't know it was me."

"_So?_" Beatrice shouted. Then much lower she hissed, "Maybe I _like_ _Wood_."

"The last thing you need is another boy in your life, and the baby would bring complications to the relationship. Do you _really_ think he'd be understanding about your pregnancy?"

"If I have too many boys in my life, he can replace _you_."

His cold eyes seemed to lose their edge for a moment. He sighed. "Well, frankly, I--"

"I don't care. Stay away from me."

"Fine..." His voice trailed off. _Be very quiet, Mudblood._

_NO! ...What for?_

_Just trust me..._

He heard her snort mentally. An interesting experience.

All the same, he was too alert for other things to contemplate this. Absentmindedly, he reached for her hand and began to walk briskly through the halls. When they escaped the throng of people and neared the usually deserted corridors, he broke into a run, pulling her with him.

_Where the hell are we going?_

_The Head Dorms._

_What. for?_

_Your safety._

_Don't feed me _that

_Just trust me._

_No._

_You really have no choice._

Part of her had every intention of running in the opposite direction, just to spite him. But the other part of her realized that in doing this, if there _was_ cause for a alarm and a good reason to be running this way, she'd make an ass out of herself and, possibly, die. Finally, they reached a suit of armor. She didn't pay any attention to where she was going anymore, and was suprised to find herself in a room adorned in green and silver seconds later.

"What was the purpose of _that_?" Beatrice panted.

"I am going to tell you this once. If you betray me _no one_ will believe you," he told her icily. "There is a monster in this castle. It tormented me my entire first year and then mysteriously disappeared. It's been tormenting me in my sleep, threatening to commit horrible things. It's in the pipes. I may or may not have been the reason it was released. I've been trying to locate it these past months, because it returned. And, for some reason, nobody can hear it but me. And before you suggest that I see Madame Pomfrey, I am perfectly sane."

"Why do you think it's after _you_?" She asked, her voice barely audible.

"It hates mudbloods."

"And you're... pretty much the most exaggerated one here, aren't you?" She asked sympathetically. "You should tell a your _precious teachers_ about this."

"They won't believe me."

"They adore you."

"They wouldn't adore me if I was off my rocker," Tom replied lazily.

"Dumbledore would! He's kind of... well... _crazy,_" she frowned. "Do you even know what _kind_ of monster this is?"

"Firstly, Dumbledore... is not especially fond of me. Even if he believed me, he'd have me committed. And _secondly_, yes, I do. It's a basalisk."

"They exist?"

"No, Mudblood, an imaginary monster is chasing after me," he growled.

"Hey! I'm on _your_ side," she spat. The words shocked them both.

"You are?"

"We're going to find this stupid thing."

"I don't think you understand how dangerous a basalisk _is_," he snorted. "If you look it in the eye--"

"Yeah, I _know_. Look, you're afraid of it. I get that. But if we can find it, we can get the teachers to kill it."

"I'm not _afraid_ of it. I simply don't want you to get yourself killed thinking you're just going after a common garden snake. Besides," he added icily, "We don't need them to recover your body before we can prove--"

"Oh thanks. They can find it _after--_?"

"That's not what I meant."

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid enough to trust you."

"So you aren't going to help me then?" Tom questioned casually. His heart took a sickening dive.

"No, I am. I just want to know what degree of lunatic I'm working with," she replied with equal frankness.

He ignored her comment. "Let's make one thing very clear. You are _not_ to go looking directly for the basalisk. I won't have your cretin's death over my head."

"What about mine?"

Tom shrugged.

"I would extend yours as well," she informed him.

"I thought we've established that you'd be in insurmountable despair if anything were to happen to me?"

"I'd get over it," Beatrice replied sarcastically. "Easily."

**

* * *

**

**And just think. It would have been even worse if I wasn't such a compulsive _freak_. Although I may do what I just finished doing later 'today'. I sincerely hope not, but I've found I can't judge something until I've read it like... an hour after I wrote it.**

**Gee. Maybe I shouldn't continue to write things off of the top of my head and then submit them without so much as a revision. What a novel concept. And yet here we are... Sorry? It's an awful habit. And I tend to corner myself this way. I'm kind of irritated that this isn't going EXACTLY the way I wanted it to, because I'm, again, a freak that way. I have a general idea of how I can twist this so that it doesn't deviate from the ending I had in mind, at the very least.**

**Gr. I intended to _somewhat_ excuse Tom from the whole releasing-a-blood-thirsty-monster-on-my-peers thing, but I dunno...**

**I am scared to death of "violating the integrity" (as my English teacher constantly puts it) of Tom's character. I've already taken a lot of liberties with him and even Beatrice, who was mine to begin with. The problem is that I took so damn long to re-start it up that the tone and the characters themselves are completely different. Plus I was reading Harry Potter when I started it. Now I'm re-reading Stephanie Meyer's vampire series and so this is the side effect. Different tone.**

**... LOL. My gosh, how neurotic am I? (Now that I think about it...) That I _actually_ worry about this. Wow, I need some friggen sleep. SO!**

**Thank you very much to those who reviewed. And **_Slytherin Princess_**, I _really do_ appreciate your help.**

**So thank you.**

**My deepest appologies for being, you know, an overdramatic idiot. :)**

**I'm going to drown my sorrows in **_Little Woman_** (I love Jo) and diet Pepsi, despite the fact that is, indeed, 4:16 in the morning (the first version of this I'd finished two hours ago) and I've got to be up at 8. :)**

**Thanks for reading my crap!**

**-Napkin**


	9. Symptoms and Sisters

**I intended to do them daily over spring break. So much for that, huh?**

**Sorry. I had a lot of crap to do.**

**I'm thinking it would be okay if I did this on the weekends and on particularly easy-homework weekdays. I neeeed to get this done. I'm neurotic like that. The Butterbeer story has been EATING ME AWAY.**

**Hahah. Cause I'm not overdramatic, right? Okay. Enjoy?**

Beatrice was working on her homework when he came bolting into the library. He smoothed out his robes and strode over to her. She snorted. _How dignified..._

He took a deep breath and pulled up a chair next to her. Apart from a few Ravenclaws on the other side of the room, the library was completely empty.

"Yes?" He was itching to slap her. _Yes?_ Only she could make a 'yes' so offensive and belligerent.

"Someone's been attacked," he panted. Running up several flights of stairs could take a lot out of you...

"By what?"

"The basalisk!" He hissed.

"The BAS-"

"SHH!" A Ravenclaw girl glared at them before continuing her work. "Yes," he replied. "She was petrified. You know, turned to-"

"I know what that is!" She hissed back. "That's awful. Who was it?"

"I don't know. Slughorn said they found her a few hours ago and that she was in Hufflepuff. I didn't want to soun too eager to know, so..."

"Yeah, I understand."

"But what if it was looking for me?" She had been debating on voicing that; it suprised her that he'd say it.

"You care about a Hufflepuff?" She raised an eyebrow.

"You don't?"

"I do... it's just... not like _you_."

"Let's concentrate on the crisis at hand right now, okay? We can explore my soul _later_," he growled.

"We're in a good place to start..." She observed. Sighing, she shut her textbook and began digging through the shelves. She settled with _Hogwarts a History_ ("I checked that already!" Tom grumbled,) and he with _The Symptoms of Fear_, which, judging by the back, was about monsters in both wizard fiction and in the wizarding world. No doubt he would throw it down quickly...

But he didn't. He became particularly engrossed in a passage about Herpo the Foul.

"Find anything?" she asked when lunch time approached. He glared at her and kept reading.

_Fine_. "Well I'm going to lunch."

He ignored her.

"And you can starve."

"And you can choke on your food," he replied calmly turning a page. He didn't even glance at her.

She glared back and tried to make a show of storming away. It felt too much like routine for her to get angry so easily now, and that unnerved her. She wasn't ready to let go of her anger toward him—_and _would_ never be ready_, she assured herself.

After lunch, despite her friends' curiosity, she managed to escape them. Beatrice found herself wandering back to the library. She poked her head in, only to find him asleep, the book propped open across his lap.

She frowned. "Hm..." Beatrice crept toward him, slipping her hand under the book. Her fingertips grazed his leg, but she continued to slowly slide the book across his lap, careful not to wake him.

But not careful enough. "What are you doing?" She jerked the book out of his grasp, hugging it to her chest.

"Nothing."

He watched her with amused, albeit still very sleepy, eyes. "Nothing? What do we have here-?" He tried to move her hand but she wouldn't budge.

"I'm checking this out, so if you'd _excuse me_..." She turned around and darted for the librarian's desk, and all he could do, as realization knocked the breath out of him, was watch the train wreck. Because...

He was not interested in Herpo the Foul, or any other children's story. He was interested in what was _inside_ Herpo the Foul. She slammed the book down on her dresser, crushing her fingers beneath it. _Well that was stupid._

Beatrice put her throbbing fingers in her mouth and paced the room. According to the very small passage the book provided, Herpo the Foul was the first wizard to create a horcrux. She was surprised he hadn't thought to look stupid old Herpo up before, though it wasn't all _that_ incredible—he'd been raised with _muggle_ folklore. Tom would probably draw away from the childish stories... But why that book? _Why_, if he hated childish things so, would he pick up _The Symptoms of Fear_? And then it clicked, as she reached the end of the passage. "_For more, refer to..." _She closed her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she began to flip frantically to earliest pages of the book. Out loud, she read, "_Also by the author: The Symptoms of a Broken Mind, The Symptoms of Love..._" She kicked her bed and the wood collided with her shin. She kicked it harder and threw herself on the bed, frustrated and annoyed.

A _love_ book? Why would Herpo the Foul be in a love book? Naturally, the author could make references to her other books as a cheap marketing ploy... but how the hell would they link _horcruxes_, of all things, to some stupid book about _love?_

When she went back, the librarian informed her that 'a young man has already checked it out, I'm afraid', but refused to say _who_, naturally. _Heaven forbid she ever say anything HELPFUL. _But she knew damn well who had it...

"Who is Herpo the Foul?" She found herself asking Alicia.

"Your mum never read it to you?"

"Not that one. I can only remember a rabbit one, but-"

"I LOVED that one! My favorite part was when-"

Beatrice gave her a look that plainly said _I don't care. _She waited until it sunk in, and once Alicia was quiet, repeated, "What is Herpo the Foul about?"

"Er… Some bloke who fell in love and then ripped his soul to pieces so that he didn't feel the 'pain of love' anymore," Andrea replied. "Why?"

"Yeah, why?" Lucy chimed in.

"Just... curious."

"_Why_?" Lucy pressed.

"Tom was reading it," Beatrice muttered.

Andrea raised an eyebrow. "That's kind of stalkerish, Bea."

"It's a long story."

"We've got time," they replied simultaneously.

In spite of her nerves, Beatrice almost laughed. "I've got Avery soon," she replied hastily, offering a weak smile and heading out of the Great Hall.

"You're _haven't_ escaped telling me!" Andrea shouted after her.

When she finally reached Mrs. Avery's classroom, Trina was flipping through an old psychoanalysis magazine.

"Can I help you dear?" Trina peered over her reading glasses.

Beatrice bit her lip. She could hear footsteps approaching, and some recently over-active part of her could _sense_ Tom approaching.

When he was turning the knob, she asked, "How does one know if they are in love?" She glanced at the door and then quickly back at Mrs. Avery.

Trina's eyes flickered toward Tom, who was making his way to a chair beside Beatrice. "At a later time, perhaps?"

"Now is fine," Beatrice mumbled.

"In love, hm..." Trina bit her lip. "Beatrice, that's a difficult question. I suppose if you deeply care about a person... selflessly, and..." She frowned. "That's a good question, you know. Tom, you're a bright, sensible young man. How do _you_ think someone can tell if they are in love?"

Beatrice stared at him, a mock curiosity spread across her face, though an unmistakable laughter danced in her eyes. He chose to ignore her. "I would imagine, if you loved someone... their very presence would cheer you up. You would be blind to their faults, however prominent they may be, because you _adore_ their faults along with every other part of them. You are aware of their faults, in a sense, but... they are nothing at all if it meant you could be with them forever. And it is unconditional devotion, and trust. But that is the thing about love. You must be willing to give them your entire soul. And while you are powerless and vulnerable, you must still trust that they will not wreak havoc with your heart—and if they do, you can still do nothing about it."

"Charming."

"That's accurate, though slightly pessimistic," Mrs. Avery offered. "So! I-"

"I think that love is a good thing," Beatrice argued, feeling suddenly defensive. "It-it can be bad. But if the person loved you back, they would certainly never hurt you or break your heart. It is a matter of trusting them..."

"Ah, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions," Tom replied. "If they often break their _own_ heart, how could you put yourself in their hands?"

"If they love you, their heart is not half so important as yours," she retorted.

"But if they are blind enough to _always_ believe themselves in love and to throw themselves wherever their heart and impulse may lead them, who is to say they will not drop you for another as quickly as they swept you up?"

"How would you know they believed themselves to be in love?"

"... Special circumstances," he replied casually. "Eventually _love_ may leave its mark. That person eventually becomes, well, damaged goods."

She felt her face heat up. "And without those special circumstances, what objections would you have then?"

"None at all," he replied coldly. "Except that I am wholly against love in the first place. Women aren't the best creatures to keep as company."

Avery put her head in her hands and wondered how so many teachers raved about these two. _These_ were Hogwarts' finest? They were awful. But she'd be lying if she said they weren't amusing.

"Women aren't pets!" Beatrice snapped. "_Men_ are dogs, and for that reason alone I object to love as well."

"That's awful!" Mrs. Avery laughed. "Two young people already embittered toward something that genuinely _is _beautiful. When you two see what it didn't take _me_ very long at all to see, you will find that love is a good thing. My husband is the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Pardon me for saying so, but I don't want to depend on a man," Beatrice replied. "If I found someone, then I would love them eagerly... unless they would not love _me_. But I want the best thing that ever happened to me to be _mine_."

Tom shrugged. "That's awfully selfish of you."

"No, it's not!"

"Never mind, both of you. It doesn't matter, since you both have sworn off of it," Mrs. Avery snickered. "I find it-" A knock came at the door.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt Trina," Professor Dippet began, "But Mr. Riddle, you will need to report to your dormitory immediately. Miss Emerski, I would like you to come with me. There has been another attack." The two exchanged glances.

"Sir, surely you don't believe Beatrice had anything to do with this?"

"No, Mr. Riddle. Not at all. I'm afraid... I'm not sure how to tell you this, Miss Emerski, but your sister went missing. They say she was with your friend Miss Clairmont… who was… _recovered_."

The word thudded in her ears, cut straight through her like a knife and pierced her entire being. "Recovered?" she choked out.

"She's been petrified, but Madame Pomfrey is sure she has a cure. It is your sister you should be concerned..." Whatever he said after what was a bunch of garble. Beatrice's head spun... Her face flushed. She was faintly aware of excusing herself, of somehow reaching the door, of putting one foot in front of the other. She must have broken into a run shortly after that because she could hear the pounding in her ears, could feel her lungs burning… but she didn't know where she was going. She tried to fight the fog invading her mind, and the first thing to register was a _sense_ thatTom was following her again. Their connection was screeching in her head. _Plus, the footsteps were a dead giveaway._ She could hear hissing now. _Tom was hissing_...

He caught up to her and grabbed her arm. "Beatrice, stop!" She whirled around.

"Stop? My sister could be _dead _because of me—because of Myrtle—and you want me to just STOP?" Her voice shook and she kicked the wall. She heard a clatter within it. "Oh...no..." She took a deep breath. The clicking was back. The full understanding... the meaning of the struggling behind the wall... No, this was worse.

"I heard it," Tom whispered.

"Oh no..." She repeated.

"What?"

"Oh, no..."

"Emerksi, I can't help you if you don't tell me what you're 'oh no'-ing about," he whispered. There was nothing harsh in his tone. It was a tone she had never heard him use before, but _that _didn't matter... not now.

"The fucker has my sister," she whispered.

**GAH.**

**I just wrote. I don't even know exactly **_**what**_** I wrote, but I wrote.**

**So this might not be permanent. I keep saying that and so far it hasn't held true at all. Everything IS permanent, so we shall see? I'm going to re-read this in a bit and see if I hate it or not.**

**In the mean time! You pick? If you hate it tell me pleaseee. Cause this is going in a different direction than I originally meant for it to...**

**Sorry for introducing the sister so late? I always 'knew' she had one I just never put her in here.**

**Andddd... I was going to put what Beatrice was doing in the bathroom (that sounds gross) in this chapter... but now I am not sure if she did what I originally was going to make her do.**

**So it might come out stupid.**

**CRAP.**

**Okay that's all. :)**


	10. Home Sweet Home

**Oh geez.**

**So I'm officially out of school! ... NOT. Effing summer school...THE POINT IS:**

**I've got way more time. It's kind of been nagging at me.**

**So as much as I say this, I truly intend to finish the effing thing.**

**I forgot whether it's "Parselmouth" or Parseltongue", or if that's even how you spell it. I figured I'd give you the heads up so that you can snigger and notice how I continue to avoid the word.**

**Hopefully I don't end up writing anything with a higher level of shittiness.**

* * *

Beatrice was racing down the hallway. She sprinted into bathroom. "Open it," she demanded.

He merely looked at her questioningly.

"Don't waste my time, Riddle! I know it's in here. Open it." He gave her a warning look. There was shuffling in one of the closer stalls.

"I can't," he said. "I don't know how. And even if I did... there's someone in here--"

"Whoever you are," Beatrice shouted, "Get out! This is important. Get out. Everyone's flooding to their common rooms."

The stall's inhabitant didn't budge.

"Fine, we warned her," she said. "How do we get in?"

Hesitantly, he stepped toward the sinks. "The entrance is here." He sighed.

Quietly, she stood over the sinks. "And you get in...?"

"Salazar Slytherin spoke--"

"Don't say it," she shuddered.

"If you can't hear the word, how can you expect to stomach whatever's down there?" She glared at him and stroked the sinks, pacing around it. The room fell into an awkward silence and then she began to hiss randomly under her breath. Under other circumstances, she would have thought about the silliness of it all, but she was desperate. He sighed once more, and began to hiss beside her.

"GO AWAY!" They heard someone yell.

Beatrice opened her mouth, but Tom shook his head. _They can place us here if they recognize our voices._

_But I already talked..._

_Open..._

_What?_

_HISSSSSSS._ The voice rumbled through her head. She grabbed her ears in vein as the sinks began to open.

"Hello?"

"Bea!" Tom growled. She felt his cold hands around her wrists. The distinct unlocking of a stall door rang through her ears, breaking the hissing off. Beatrice took a deep breath and found herself skidding across the bathroom tile. Disgust might have been her first reaction, had she known what was going on. She was hidden from view now.

"Hello?" The girl sniffed. _Myrtle_.

Beatrice opened her mouth, unsure of the intent behind it. Before she had a chance to think, a snake came shooting up the sinks. For a moment her voice was lost. Then there was a thud. Her heart stopped.

"TOM!" She screamed. She jumped to her feet to find that he was still standing. It never occurred to her that Myrtle might be dead. The breath came back to her. He grabbed her wrist.

"We need to get out of here," he said quietly. The hissing in her mind was getting louder.

"No! Not without my sister."

"Beatrice, I can tell the professors how to--"

She turned to him. _And tell them what? That you can talk to snakes? _Without voicing it, merely sending it spiraling into his mind, she jumped over the sinks and down the hole. The snake was going to follow her, she was sure. It's slithering coils against the cement-like tube would be hard not to hear, but it didn't come. Just loud hissing. And then another thud right behind her.

"Oof," the fallen thing said.

There was a bearded man's head at the end of the room, engraved into the wall. There were pillars everywhere...

"The Chamber of Secrets," she whispered. She shook her head and ran as fast as she could, her feet splashing through the room. Beatrice's knees buckled as she saw the stiff body of her sister, the face, the eyes... behind sunglasses. Through tears, she snorted. _Of course. Wear sunglasses in doors._

That's how she'd want to be remembered. Humorously. Tom was hovering behind her. He put his hand on the front of her sister's wrist, closing his eyes.

"She's alive," he whispered. "We need to get her out of here." He bit his lip. "I need to get you both back up--"

Beatrice grabbed his hand. He looked into her eyes, and he felt his head spin. He wanted to lean over and puke. The ground was pulled from beneath his feet and he was sent spiraling to who-knows-where. And then the room came back into focus. _POP!_

_A new room._

"Where are we?"

"Hello?" Beatrice yelled.

A black haired woman came bolting down the stairs. "Beatrice?" she sobbed. "Beatrice, your sister--" Her deep brown eyes widened.

"She's gonna be alright, Mom," Beatrice said quickly. "We need...?" She looked at Tom.

"A mandrake," he frowned.

"The screaming thing?" Mrs. Emerski frowned.

"Yeah, Neil's got some in the greenhouse," Beatrice replied, distractedly. She turned one way, shook her head and dashed the other way. Tom merely stood there, staring at the cold body of the girl, attempting to process the events. He didn't understand half of them, but he was perfectly aware of the fact that he and Beatrice had fled the scene of a murder, and also released the beast on the victim. This wasn't something that teachers' good opinions would fix.

* * *

Emily Emerski had gotten into her liquor cabinet as soon as the panic kicked in.

Luckily, Neil Emerski, Beatrice's step-dad (and the only father she'd known, incidentally) had shown up from work a few minutes after she and Tom had arrived, got one look at little Isabelle's petrified body, and taken her to the back of the house. He'd just emerged from the room, a relieved smile on his face. "She's going to be fine," he said.

Beatrice nodded. Her face was pale, but she hadn't shed a tear the entire time. "Thanks Neil."

"How did you find her?" He frowned.

"Uh..."

Neil eyed her.

"She was in the Chamber of Secrets," Beatrice said. "We broke in, we saved her--" Neil put his hands up in the air.

Emily Emerski turned to Tom, breathing her liquor-breath onto him. "Who are you?"

"This is Tom," Beatrice replied. Her mother smirked. "My _friend."_

"Friend?" Tom snickered under his breath. _Hardly._

_Well I can't exactly introduce you as the bane of my existance, can I? THAT'D be great. 'This is Tom, the asshole...'_

Neil grunted, "Uh, nice to meet you, Tom. I wish it had been under better circumstances."

"Yes," Tom nodded. "I'm sorry, by the way, about everything. I'm glad to hear that Isabelle will be okay, though--"

"So when did you two start seeing each other?" Emily hiccuped.

Beatrice glared. "We haven't." Tom smirked at her. "We _won't_ either."

"No need to be unfriendly," her mother said coldly. "Don't cover up for _us_ Beatrice. Are you Tom Riddle?"

Beatrice groaned.

"Yes, I am," Tom said pleasantly.

"I've heard so much about you," she continued. "Beatrice bitches about you enough--"

"Thanks, Mom."

"Emily, I think that's enough," Neil said quickly. He glanced at Tom appologetically. "While your sister's recovering, you're welcome to stay, Beatrice-- you too, Tom, if you think it would be alright with your parents."

"My parents are dead actually," Tom said. Beatrice stared at him incredulously.

"Oh..."

"Yeah, it's nothing," Beatrice said flatly, glaring at Tom. "But I think we should head back, actually--"

"I'd love to stay," Tom said.

"Great," Neil smiled, tired. "I think you guys need a break after... everything."

"But the school," Beatrice interjected. "We need to-"

"I'll take care of it," Neil said. "You're right though. Besides, you'll need some spare clothes-- and however you got here, I don't _want_ to know, but... I'll take you both back. Get some spare clothes. We'll come up with a story, and you two can have a rest here for a bit."

* * *

"What did you do _that_ for?" Beatrice growled. She was laying on the grass, glaring up at the smug boy on the hammock. It was weird, seeing him out of his school clothes. He looked much more laid back. _Even for an uptight, overbearing, controlling, vindictive..._

"Dunno," he replied lazily.

"What, are you _that_ curious about what it feels like to be part of a family?"

He chuckled. "You're just afraid I'm going to hear what you say about me."

"Want me to tell you?"

"Sure."

"I called you a self absorbed, obnoxious, incredibly--"

"Handsome?"

"Shut up," she snapped. "See, _this_ is why I want you nowhere near my family. You're already driving me mad. Isn't that enough?"

"That's your own fault. I can't help it if you're in love with me." She flicked her wand and he flipped out of the hammoch.

She smirked.

"If you wanted me to lay down near you that badly, all you had to do was ask."

She looked him in the eye, stood up, and stormed into the house. "Ugh!"

He chuckled after her.

"DINNER-- Oh good," Emily said. "Beatrice, I have this horrible headache--"

"Then don't drink," Beatrice snapped.

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Beatrice, sometimes I need to. It's to calm my nerves. It's not as if I enjoy the stuff. Now go and get that nice 'friend' of yours." She grinned at her daughter. "Go _on_."

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "RIDDLE, DINNER." Then under her breath, she grunted as he passed her, "I hope you choke on it..."

He helped set the table. It was as if he'd been there and _she_ was the intruder. Neil took to him quickly, as he often did with anything that was made up with a majority of testosterone. Living with Emily had done that to him. The two talked, at first with Neil's interrogating, and later about the wizarding world. Neil had a lot of connections, and so many that even Tom seemed impressed. Beatrice observed her mother, sneaking sips of heavy liquor when she didn't think anyone was looking. Her fear for Isabelle had not yet subsided. Beatrice was sure that, if it had been her, Emily would have been much calmer. But Isabelle was the baby. As much as her mother loved them both, she thought Beatrice was much more capable of taking care of herself. Even when it was ridiculous, her mother had always expected Beatrice to be independent.

The only time she had to speak at dinner was to censor her mother if Neil didn't catch it quick enough. Otherwise, Beatrice was left to think about what had passed without interruption. Tom hadn't bothered to prod her into speaking. He was much too fascinated in Neil, and besides, it wasn't as if he couldn't just pop into her head himself. At that precise moment, Tom looked more human than she'd ever seen him. His elbow was on the table, arm straight up, and he leaned his head against his unclenched fist. He nodded on occasion, but there was nothing professional about this Tom. He smiled here and there, but mostly it was in his eyes. They would tighten a little, and seem more vivid and pronounced like the rest of him usually was. His hair was untidy about his face. He had the top buttons of his shirt undone. Not enough to show anything, _thankfully_, she reminded herself. It wasn't tucked into his pants, either. He seemed too casual to be the Tom that she knew.

But then, she was _slightly-less-uptight-_Beatrice, here at home. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and falling out in varios parts. She had a huge t-shirt on and baggy shorts. The first thing Tom had said when he saw her was "Well that's attractive. Why don't you wear that to school? You'd have even more boys after you."

She had replied smugly, "I don't want them to notice if I start to show."

That had shut him up. She smiled to herself, remembering.

"Anyone up for desert?" Her mother was asking.

"No thanks," Beatrice said. "I'm gong to bed. Long day..."

"Alright," Emily smiled, hiccuping. "How about you Tuh-om?"

Tom declined politely, faking a yawn and insisting he was tired as well. He thanked her parents for the dinner and then followed her upstairs. She didn't say a word to him. He shrugged and retired to the guest room, laying back on the bed and sighing. It had been a weird day, but a good one. It was nice going somewhere that wasn't Hogwarts or the orphanage. Hogwarts was great. It was his real home, but Tom had never realized just how much he needed a change of scenery until he got it. He stretched out, sprawled across the bed lazily. And then he heard class shatter.

_POP!_

Beatrice jerked around, wand out. "Oh, it's just you," she said, turning her back to him. Her room was not what he'd expected. The blinds were shut, which allowed very little light into the room. Had it been allowed to shine through, however, it would've been a very open room. The walls were light blue, though currently covered in shadows. There was a large bookshelf in the corner, a white desk, and a big bed with lacy comforters.

"Nice sheets," he said.

She sighed. "Tom, get out."

"Are you... alright?"

"I'm fine," she snapped. He nodded.

"Alright, well... if ya need anything Emerski," he began casually.

She cut him off. "It's my house," she reminded him.

"... right. Well, even still."

"Thank you," she said stiffly, somewhat annoyed.

He shrugged. "Don't say I didn't try."

"I won't," she snapped. He apparated back into the guest room and lay on the bed and closed his eyes.

He was uncertain how long he'd been asleep. Regardless, it was much darker outside, now. Everything was completely silent. He decided to look around a bit, considering this might be his only chance to do so. But Tom had barely gotten to the edge of the stairs by the time he heard it. There was distinct sniffling noise. He paused and listened. _Okay, so... sniffling, and the occasional shudder._

Groaning, he knocked on Beatrice's door.

"Yes Neil?" She asked, barely hiding her impatience.

Tom opened the door. "Knock, knock," he said lightly.

"Oh god," she whispered to herself. "Tom, not now, please?"

"Look at me."

"No," she snapped. "What for?"

"Are you crying?"

She induced a snort. "No."

"Yes you are."

"Well, I don't want to talk about it with you, clearly, so--"

He shut the door and walked over to where she'd been huddled on the floor. She was sitting, her back against the side of the bed, hugging her knees, a blanket falling off of her. He flipped the slipping portion back onto her gently and put his arm on her shoulder.

"Why are you crying?"

She looked up at him, angry. Her eyes were red and puffy, and, as is characteristic of someone who's been crying, still wet. A tear was leaking down her cheek as she offered the glance. She was trying to supress it, as was evident by her shudder.

"Am I that repulsive?" He joked.

She snorted through her tears. "No, no," she smiled. "Really, I'm fine. I just, wow... I must look like a baby right now, but really, it's not that I'm crying."

"Oh, your eyes are just wet?" He asked, still gently.

"No, I mean, I had an eyelash, see--"

"Even _you _wouldn't believe a lie like that."

She offered him a small smile. "Thank you?"

He sat, cross legged, across from her. "Now, are you going to make me sit here for the rest of the night, or are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Now, Beatrice glared at him. Her green eyes looked more dangerous than usual. "Well," she began stiffly, "I think I saw Myrtle die. You nearly died, I thought my sister _was_ dead..." She stopped and put her face into her knees.

"Hey, hey," he said quietly, closing eyes, supressing the memories himself, "No. Myrtle... she didn't leave. You tried. You told her to leave."

"I should've tried harder. And then my sister..." She shook, still speaking into the blankets.

He smiled. "She's going to be okay, remember? Neil, your dad--"

"He's not my dad," she said. "He's my step-dad."

"Okay, well _Neil_," he continued, "said she'd be fine. And she wouldn't be if you hadn't gotten to her in time, alright? You saved your sister."

There was another choked sob.

"She's okay. She's down stairs. Do you want to go look? I can take you right now--"

She shook her head.

"Okay. I can, though."

"Thanks," she shuddered into her blanket.

"Now," he said uncomfortably, "What is this about me dying?"

"The thud," she said into her blanket. "I heard it, I thought it was you. Twice I heard it."

"That wasn't me, it was--" he paused. "Do you see me? Right here? I'm fine, see? I'm here, right now, with you. I'm right in front of you, Bea. Okay? Don't worry about me." He was rambling.

She snorted into her blanket again.

"Okay, well if you _aren't_ worried about me, then--"

"No," she said, looking up. "No, I'll admit it. You helped me-- _I didn't want to owe you like that, you know_. Your death will _not_ be on my hands."

Tom rolled his eyes.

"Not unless you really asked for it," she added jokingly.

"Are you going to be alright?" He asked, sitting beside her. She nodded and leaned on him. "Do you want me to stay here?"

"You don't have to," she said quietly.

He glared at her.

She glared back.

"Fine," he said.

"Fine." He put his arm around her in one swift, annoyed movement, bringing his knees closer to himself. She jerked the blanket a little and draped it in an _annoyed_ fashion on top of him. Huffing, she tucked her head into the crook of his neck. He tilted his head slightly.

There was a knock at the door. She jumped back and Tom disentangled himself from her.

"Hey Bea?" It was Emily.

"Yeah?" Beatrice called back, her voice an octave higher than usual.

"I'm okay with Tom being in there as long as you keep your underwear on, okay?" Beatrice threw a flower vase at the door.

"I'm okay with the bra, though-- Goodnight Sweetie!-- _Don't tell Neil_," her mother chuckled. Beatrice groaned.

"She doesn't mean that, you know," Beatrice grunted. "That is... she doesn't suspect much, except that I must secretly love you or something. She trusts me too much."

"Or she knows I don't find you attractive," Tom replied, smiling.

She put her hands on her hips. "You're always the charmer, aren't you? It's a wonder you don't have a girlfriend by now."

"Goodnight," he smirked, bowing out of the doorway. "Are you going to be okay with out me?"

"I think I'll manage," she replied sarcastically. "_Goodnight._" She closed the door behind him and threw herself onto her bed. She looked at her hands and then shoved her head into the pillow, avoiding the temptation to scream. _I don't hate Tom Riddle,_ she admitted to herself. _I'm going to hell._

* * *

**... CAN YOU TELLLLL I had no idea how to end this?**

**Anyway. To the point. (HA yeah right. Cause III would _never_ get sidetracked.)**

**Okay, so I lied. ****I don't have a serious bone in my body. I have the distinct feeling that these serious chapters are going to have lots of rude interruptions.**

**MY BAD. I just can't do it. I feel sad when I write sad.**

**Basically, I wrote this and now it's 4:30. I haven't read ALL of it, but it's here, so you don't think that I forgot about the story. I HAVEN'T. It's haunted me for, what? a year now? So there we go. I WANT TO FINISH.**

**As per usual, I will love you and be faithfully yours forever and ever if you would please review.**

**Even to tell me how to fix it. Again, nothing new, I'm totally going to leave this as "not permanent" because, really, it's not.**

**I'm just too tired to read it. And we leave EARLY tomorrow for some stuff, so I'll be home late.**

**Assuming I've got the energy (let's face it, I'm going to re-read it as soon as I'm up if I have the time; I'm_ that_ neurotic about this sort of thing) I will fix it where you guys think it needs to be fixed. I appologize for the delay. I've got less of an excuse not to post than eveeeer so hopefully I'll get the damned thing done soon.**

**OH! And I know about the non-apparating thing. I villl explain later?**

**Bye sirsss.**


	11. The Mad and the Angry

**I bet you thought youuuu were rid of me for good. *CACKLE*  
**

**...Just kidding. Sort of?  
**

**I hope that I can get some momentum going and get this story out of my head so that I stop thinking of it when I listen to music.**

**This one's a little different.  
**

* * *

The clusters of students and their frantic whispers were hard to avoid.

Isabelle was not immune to them. And unfortunately, neither were her friends. They all wanted to know what happened, where she'd gone off to, if the rumors were true... about her... and Beatrice. _If the rumors were true. Hah._

The fact that Rubeus Hagrid had been expelled was a shock to few and a major concern to even less. He had always been an odd boy-though the word boy hardly did that great lump justice-but Beatrice? Who would have thought one of Hogwarts' finest would be involved in the murder of another student?

Thank goodness for Tom Riddle.

_Right._ Isabelle was so thankful she could just _swoon_.

She swatted at a ghost rather viciously, and in vain, she knew, as it swooped past. She let out a frustrated grunt and a final bat of her hand. More whispers; great, now everyone could think the whole Emerski family was a violent, psychotic bunch. It hardly mattered what she did anymore; they already thought that, in all likelihood. She was furious, but she wasn't quite sure why. There were plenty of reasons.

Maybe it was because she'd been kidnapped and she had no idea why or how. Maybe it was because time had been taken from her life, time spent unconscious, for no reason. Maybe it was because Tom Riddle turned her sister in._ Or maybe, just maybe_, a little voice whispered in the back of her mind,_ it was the fact that Beatrice refused to talk about what had happened, nevermind refute it._

Beatrice had always been a fighter. And now, as if some internal switch had been flicked, her sister's will had flickered right out of her. She hadn't fought the expulsion. When she'd caught wind of it, before the headmaster had even had time to give it to her, she'd just taken it. The color drained from her face and she nodded. And then her movements grew slow and her voice became soft. Just like that, the Beatrice she'd known so well was dead and this obedient corpse had taken her place. She packed her things and she was gone before dinner. Without a word to anyone.  
Last Isabelle had heard from their mother, Beatrice had found a job at a muggle's house, as a servant girl. It was a bit of a walk from the house, but they were a wealthy family and treated her well, her mother'd written. Things could be worse.

But Isabelle knew things weren't over yet.

Tom Riddle was showing up where he hadn't before; near the common room exit, by the hospital wing when Pomfrey did her routine checks to make sure everything was in order after the 'incident'. After her classes, sometimes. As much as she hated to admit it, he terrified her. There was something cold about him, something... _wrong_. Something very, very wrong. And no one believed her. Everyone thought she was being silly. That only served to amplify her fear of him.

She was walking purposefully to the library, and even now, she could hear his footsteps behind her. _How can someone make their footsteps menacing? Arghhh._

She turned around slowly, just a few yards from the library door-within earshot of witnesses, should she scream.

Her withering look fell off her face. She crumpled under the daunting figure behind her. "R-Riddle," she stammered, trying to remain stern.

"E-Emerski," he mocked.

All the blood was draining from her face. "What do you want with me?"

"Nothing." He looked completely innocent, but she could feel every hair stand up on end. He was circling her, like she was some sort of prey or something. She wanted so badly to shut her eyes, to squeeze them tight and think of any place away from there..._ if she could just reach into her pocket... _But she couldn't_._ Not in front of_ him_. "Ahhh," he smiled. "You can do it too."

"Do what?"

"You can apparate. Just like your sister. Out of Hogwarts. You're a bit young for apparating, aren't you? Then again, so is she..."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your sister. That's what got her in trouble, you know. That's some dark magic." He paused. "Oh come now, I saw her do it myself. Twice, in fact. She managed to apparate into the girls' bathroom once I saw her come out of the stall-she was pretty pleased with herself. The second time was... well, with you, in fact. You wouldn't remember. You were unconscious-"

"You'd have to ask my sister, because this is news to me..." she started.

"How do you do it?" he pressed. "How do you get out of Hogwarts? That's a special skill, you know. It wasn't, maybe a hundred years ago. Maybe even a few decades ago, but the wizarding world isn't as safe as it used to be." He flashed her a smile. "People just can't pop in when they'd like. And invading Hogwarts is, believe it or not, quite a lovely ability to have for someone like... _Grindlewald_, for example. Remember him? Name sound familiar?" She stiffened as he went on, "That is incredibly dangerous knowledge you two are playing with."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I don't know how you do it, I don't know what you have created, but the two of you have gotten around the enchantment." He eyed her, looking for her face for some trace of confirmation.  
She gave him none. Just nerves. "My sister is second to you in her classes. Surely, if she was clever enough to manage such a thing, you could too? I am not as bright as my sister, so it certainly wasn't me. How could we possibly do that? And more importantly, why would we want to? What interest do I have in getting in and out of Hogwarts? I am just fine here, thank you. And I think my sister was a little more than upset in leaving, herself." She glared at him.

"Ah, yes. Rather unfortunate, isn't it? But you do bring up a valid point. I have thought of it, naturally. So I suppose I should re-word my question. Who helped you do this?"

"Do you hear yourself?" she asked, looking straight down at her feet. "Why would someone teach us how to leave Hogwarts? How in the world would that benefit anybody? And how could that benefit possibly outweigh the incredible risk?"

He smirked and his eyes flashed dangerously. "Ah, that was the second thing that got her in trouble. You two are more alike than I thought." He waited a long time, until her eyes met his, before he continued, "She lied to me too."

"Oh?" _... I don't like where this is going. I don't want to hear about this. Isabelle, step inside the library NOW. Get away from him NOW..._

"Many times," he smiled. Almost fondly. It didn't suit his face at all. "She told me she didn't have a sister. Wanted to protect you, I think. Can you imagine? From _me_? As if I'd do anything." She gulped. "And. She told me she would keep her baby."

Isabelle gulped. "B-baby? Beatrice wasn't..."

"Wasn't pregnant? I thought that for a long time too. But indeed, your sister is very pregnant. Just yesterday she went to an orphanage to figure out how to go about the process of dumping her child, lest your mother find out."

"She's not even showing! How-how could she...?"

"A simple charm," he replied flatly.

"Are you _following_ her?" Her head was spinning._ There was no** possible **way... This wasn't true. Beatrice would **never**... But,_ the nasty voice in her head reminded her, _did you ever think she would be expelled? For murder, no less? _She shook the thought away, burying it for a later time. "And. And. Who is the father?"

"No, merely keeping track," he said carelessly. "And... The Potter boy, I believe. Although your sister does..." he paused. "Have a few _candidates_ in mind." He looked half disgusted.

"Why would she tell you?" Isabelle looked mortified. She eyed him carefully. "... you..."

He turned white. For a second he looked completely human, intimidated by her. Just for a second. "No," he laughed coldly. "No, I was a few months too late for that."

Isabelle opened her mouth, but he continued. "It would be wise not to follow in your sister's footsteps. I do not like being toyed with. I have not taken a particular fondness toward having things _kept_ from me." The way he spat his words nearly made her flinch. "And I especially do not like being lied to." He smiled at her coldly. A temperature drop in the room told her a ghost had entered come in. "Have a nice day, Miss Isabelle." And with that, Tom Riddle glided from the corridor.

She nodded hurriedly, and continued to even after he'd turned his head. And long after he left, she stayed fixed to the spot, her eyes trained on the wall, numb and quiet, unable to wrap her mind around what was going on and not fully wanting to.

* * *

_Eugh. I never actually meant to abandon this one. I actually knew pretty early on what I wanted the exact ending to be... just with little to no idea of how to get there._

_Admittedly, I left it at a bad spot; with Tom Riddle far more out of character than I meant for him to be and without any explanation as to his motives. I guess they'll come up but I hope that the story gains a semblance of plausibility back. There are some things I really want to make happen in this story but at this point I don't think they can. I don't know how often I will update because I am away at school now but hopefully a couple of you will come back to read it._

**Originally this chapter was going to have a lot of Beatrice in hysterics and there are a bunch of versions of this written out on my computer. And then I wrote this one out and decided it was a much less dramatic transition into the darker half of this story.**

**Thanks to those of you who do read this! Sorry for taking so long.  
**

**Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated folks! ... if anyone is reading.  
**


	12. Senior of the Son

**_WELL HELLO THERE._**

* * *

_She emerged from the tub and covered herself in the towel. She sat on the floor of the bathroom, in this way, hardly covered and not in the least bit clothed, for a long time. She had no one to blame but herself._

_Her body was sore and marked. She just wanted to sleep it off-sleep everything off, sleep her whole bloody life off if she could. She'd let this happen. She should have turned the other way, she should have refused to take the bait, but she'd risen to it anyway. It'd been the only thing that pulled her out of bed, in all these months._

_Even in the earliest days, after she'd been expelled, he was the only one to bring her out of bed, and as she thought back on how it all began to unfold, she knew she would not have behaved any differently, even now. Part of her even thought she liked it, a bit, that the damage done was what she'd anticipated and hoped for all along, that she would have even been more eager to bolt down the stairs, on that day, when everything began to fall into place..._

But how could she have known? And more importantly, how could he?

* * *

"Beatrice, there is someone here to see you," her mother said from the doorway.

Beatrice hardly moved from her place on the bed. Ever since she'd come home, earlier that week, she'd been glued to the same spot. Why did her mother think she'd move now? "Tell them I am not home."

"I really think you ought to come down," her mother pressed. She turned her head nervously to the stairs, and then back to Beatrice. She lowered her voice, and whispered almost breathlessly, "He says... he says... his name is Tom Riddle."

Beatrice swallowed hard. "Mum, you're drunk. Leave me alone."

Her mother shook her head and came closer. "I am not!" she hissed indignantly. "And he is not the boy I met just the other day, though they are the spitting image of each other. No, this one is older. You must come see him, immediately. He has come looking for you. Perhaps he has something that could be of help to you."

"You didn't ask?" Beatrice snapped. "You could very well be sending me into the hands of some dangerous man and you didn't bother to ask? Typical." She had already hoisted herself off of her bed and was halfway down the hall, approaching the stairs. She turned to her mother and said, coldly, "But luckily, I have learned to protect myself. If not for me, Isabelle and I could have been far worse than expelled." She saw her mother flinch, and she felt a small satisfaction in it. She did not understand her newfound hatred for her mother, but she could feel it infesting every part of her, and she did not care anymore. Nothing much mattered. It didn't matter that she was a disheveled mess, that she was tearstained and sweaty and had not pulled herself out of bed for anything besides the absolute necessities. Her body had grown weak and she had let it, but she was too tired and too indifferent to the world to give it any thought.

She did not realize, until she laid eyes on the man, that she'd half expected there to be no one at all downstairs, never mind the being her mother had described. She hesitated for a moment before descending the few remaining stairs.

"You wished to see me?" she asked, when she reached the bottom. He stood up from their couch as she entered the room.

"Yes," he replied. She gestured for him to sit back down as she placed herself in a seat across from him. "You replied to an ad my mother placed," he muttered. "... to clean house?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Why on earth did you come yourself, instead of sending a servant of your own?" she blurted out.

His face hardened. "I was led to believe," he began, "that you were not from the type of family that produced servant girls, and came to investigate, myself. And indeed, upon seeing your home and your mother, I am led to wonder why you have applied for such a position. Rumor has it that you came home from a rather exclusive boarding school. And even without a proper educational upbringing, surely you have other prospects? As a wife perhaps?"

"I am looking," she spoke slowly, "for a job. Do you have a place for me?" She examined his face for motive and found nothing.

"Certainly," he replied, "but I must insist that you tell me why you are _interested_ in a job like this."

"I have a fickle mother," she lied, "with a fortune of an uncertain future."

He nodded. "We will have a spot for you. I live down the way, and you should arrange for transportation there four days a week. My mother will be stopping by my home this Wednesday for lunch. You may come then to discuss the terms with her." He paused before adding, "You will not receive special treatment."

"Of course." She smiled and, after a bit of small talk, he excused himself and she showed him out.

She calmly informed her mother that she was now employed, but beyond that, would not answer a single question about the visit and what had transpired. Her mother had tried to overhear, but a simple _Muffliato! _had taken care of that. She might not have her wand, but her mother's was not so bad, now that she was used to it...

She hastily excused herself to her room. At first, she was flooded with relief. She was going to have something to do. She would be useful instead of wasting away idly.

But then, all at once, it hit her. This man was the spitting image of Tom Riddle. But this man was a _muggle_. The two were definitely connected, but as she wracked her mind, all she could remember Riddle _thinking_ about his father was that he had been the magical one, that his mother had been a muggle... and hadn't he been an orphan? So who was this man? And could he help her? She could not help but wonder if Riddle had sent him, if he was up to something, and if, perhaps, she might be walking into a trap...

But so what? What did she have to lose anymore? What more could he possibly do to her?

* * *

**I need to go to bed but I want to finish this thing. I have known, since before I started it, what the end would be, and I would just like to get it down. I apologize for how long it took and for how long it will probably take me to get the next one up, what with school... and my amazing skill in the art of procrastination. I wrote this in like 45 minutes and you can probably tell... but it is up now. :P So... sorry for the short chapter and a lot more will be happening in the chapters to come. Here is just a teaser, I guess, and a nod to let you know I am still here and still thinking about this stupid storyline.**

**I hope it is not too blatant, in the tone, that there is a large time gap between when I started this and now...**

**But ANYWAY: ****Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated.**

**... And a Happy almost-Thanksgiving! to those of you who celebrate it.**


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